


your grace provides for me

by seashadows



Series: Crowley the Camdemon [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AKA the camdemon sequel, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Food, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Masturbation, Other, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, return of the book forum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: He had had his head in Aziraphale’s lap for half an hour before the question he’d been pondering finally came to the surface. “Angel?”“Mm?” Aziraphale moved his hand from Crowley’s hair to his forehead. “Yes, my dear?”As always, save for when Aziraphale brought them out while they were arguing, the words made Crowley smile. “I’ve been wondering something about my videos.”(Crowley and Aziraphale, in moving to a new stage of their relationship, discover that a certain demon's exhibitionist old habits add to - rather than detract from - its positivity.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Crowley the Camdemon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536730
Comments: 326
Kudos: 1113
Collections: Chaotic Omens: The Fallout of a Big Bang, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is ALSO from that same Alison Krauss song about Jesus. Fucking hell, I am a terrible person.
> 
> Beta-read by the incredible sosobriquet. <3 Additional thanks to everyone in the NSFW writers' chat of the Good Omens Big Bang discord server for being awesome and also suggesting ideas that would make even Crowley blush. You all are incredible. 
> 
> The linked fanart is by gearsmoke/penemues-quill, and was drawn after the last fic. Crowley does have short hair in this one, but the position is the same. It is super, SUPER NSFW.

It was a nice night. Then again, despite the disgusting winter weather, most of the nights had been nice since Crowley and Aziraphale had finally moved their relationship from Category A to Category B – or rather, Category F. It turned out that spending an evening with Aziraphale stroking his hair was far preferable to anything plant-related, and Crowley suspected his plants were happier for it.

He had had his head in Aziraphale’s lap for half an hour before the question he’d been pondering finally came to the surface. “Angel?”

“Mm?” Aziraphale moved his hand from Crowley’s hair to his forehead. “Yes, my dear?”

As always, save for when Aziraphale brought them out while they were arguing, the words made Crowley smile. “I’ve been wondering something about my videos.”

Aziraphale ran the backs of his soft fingers over Crowley’s brow. “Oh? What about them?”

“I want some details,” Crowley said. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Not those kinds of details. We’ve just never talked about what you liked specifically. You never watched them more than once, so.” He tried his best to shrug, not easy in his current position. “Anything you really liked in particular? I don’t know, maybe I can bring them to bed.”

“We haven’t any problems communicating when we make love.”

“Not saying we do.” Crowley sucked his cheeks. “I’m just wondering what you liked best. We’ve never really talked about…er. Never mind.” He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to ask anymore. His brain was a strange, muddled place. “Forget it. I’m being weird.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I think I may know what you’re asking,” he said, and smiled his little smile of realization. Crowley was most familiar with it as Aziraphale’s reaction to figuring out one of the truly horrible puns he favored. “You miss your comments.”

“What? _No! _Those creepy fucks?”

“Not _them, _obviously,” said Aziraphale, “but the attention. The adulation, perhaps.”

Crowley pulled his head out of Aziraphale’s lap and sat up. “I always thought about you. Only you. You know that.” Did Aziraphale really think he was that much of a – a – “I haven’t made any new ones! I love _you!_”

“No, Crowley, no. I’m not questioning that.” Aziraphale tilted his chin up and kissed him, a brief touch, but enough to calm him. “I don’t mean to suggest that this is conscious for you. It’s very natural to enjoy positive attention. Who wouldn’t?”

“Not you,” Crowley said. “Not that way.” He settled back into Aziraphale’s lap with a grumble. After that scare, Aziraphale damn well owed him some more hair-stroking. “I’m kind of an attention-seeker. It’s what we demons do.” He thought ruefully of the shit he’d claimed over the centuries; only some of those claims had been for the sole purpose of making Hell stop bothering him. At least Aziraphale wasn’t put off by his needier tendencies. Right now was an excellent case in point. “_You _didn’t make those videos when you were lonely.”

Aziraphale twined a lock of Crowley’s hair around his forefinger. “Yes, but I did become a bit of an Internet hermit. Although – was I really a hermit if I went about my everyday activities as I usually did?”

“I think it’s only defined as being a hermit if you have an actual problem,” said Crowley. “Like if you start eating things with cheese powder while sitting at the computer for thirty hours straight.” Aziraphale made a face. “Yeah, you see what I mean.” He’d done that exactly once and once was enough. Cheese powder did not agree with demons. “But that’s not my point. My point is, I was pathetic.”

“You weren’t _pathetic_.”

There was that blessed guilt, eating at him again. “It’s worse than you think,” Crowley said. He turned his head to the side, avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze. “You know what I thought about sometimes? What it’d be like if _you _did videos with me. If that’s not invading your privacy…” He trailed off, face burning. “Um. Yeah, so now you know.”

“Me?” Aziraphale said. His hand stilled in Crowley’s hair, but only for a second. “You fantasized about me…behind the camera? I think I remember saying something about that when we first…er. Well.”

“Sometimes,” Crowley said. “And yeah, I think I did say that. We were pretty hard in the afterglow at the time, to be fair.” He grinned. “So I do fantasize about that. I told you, it’s stupid.” He relaxed again into Aziraphale’s touch. “It was…I guess it was good to know people wanted me. I’d trade it,” he added hastily. “I’d trade it all for a minute with you, even if there were a million of them. But maybe you’re right.”

“About what?”

Crowley turned his head back towards Aziraphale’s belly and nudged his face against his thigh. “Liking attention,” he said. “Missing it, almost. Mind if I’m disgustingly cliché for a second, angel?”

Aziraphale scratched the back of his neck with his almost sinfully skilled fingertips. “I’ve never minded clichés.”

Crowley snorted. “In that case; you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care if I miss my coping mechanisms.” Hell had never given him a proper reward for that level of temptation, either. He’d once made three people come on a city bus, and not even a level-one commendation to show for it. Bastards.

“Oh, now,” said Aziraphale, “don’t sell yourself short. I’m certain they made a few people, er, happy. Escapist fantasy isn’t always a bad thing, as I’m sure you know. It’s healthy in small doses.”

“What,” Crowley teased, “you think it was healthy to imagine you holding the camera?”

“Well…” Aziraphale traced Crowley’s ear with two fingers. Goosebumps erupted down Crowley’s back and chest. “Only holding the camera? Was it me watching at a closer range that you imagined? Or was I an active participant?”

Crowley squinted. “I’m pretty sure I told you that, too. Why do you want to know?”

“Perhaps I’m only curious,” said Aziraphale. He pulled gently on the hair at the nape of Crowley’s neck. “Perhaps I’d like to reassure you that those fantasies are healthy. I’d say that they’re healthy _and_ normal, but that wouldn’t be quite honest. We’re in a unique situation, after all. Normal doesn’t apply.”

Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s thigh. It smelled like the ghost of soap, and warm skin underneath. “Sometimes you were just holding the camera, but sometimes you were participating. Touching me. Telling me…telling me to go on, keep going, because I was doing great. Everyone was going to love it because I was…” 

_Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue_, good old Shakespeare had written in Hamlet. It was apt; his words were tripping on his tongue for certain. And Aziraphale was waiting for the words he himself had said in Crowley’s wildest dreams. In this situation, Will had gotten it just right. “Because I was doing everything you wanted to see.”

“Goodness me. That does sound like something I would say.” Aziraphale rested his forefinger on Crowley’s lips, and Crowley eagerly took the tip into his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make Aziraphale gasp. “Are those memories making you frisky, my dear?”

“Maybe,” said Crowley, and wiggled in place. Then the sight before him coalesced into a realization – namely, what exactly the new _convexity _in those tan trousers meant, right in front of his nose. “Why, _Angel_…are you getting a boner from this? Are you a secret exhibitionist?”

“I – no! Absolutely not!” Aziraphale shifted, but made no move to remove Crowley’s head from his lap. “I’m nothing of the sort, my dear boy. Is it possible that you’re projecting?”

Crowley smiled. “Projecting,” he mused, and nuzzled his nose against the bulge in Aziraphale’s trousers[1]. Aziraphale’s hand tightened in his hair. “You like that. Am I projecting now, or is there a little bit of a show-off in this oh-so-proper angel?”

“Fiend,” said Aziraphale, his voice strained. “You foul, dreadful creature of Hell.”

“You don’t mean that,” Crowley said. “You know you love me.”

Aziraphale rolled his hips forward, and Crowley buried his face in the crotch of his trousers. Thanks to Aziraphale’s habit of wearing multiple layers, the predominant smell he got was fabric, but a flick of his forked tongue revealed the thickening musk of arousal underneath. “_Oh_,” Aziraphale said. Crowley rubbed his face back and forth as a reward. “Oh, my dear. Crowley, please.”

Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s growing, albeit trapped, erection. “You want to see how I do it when I’m recording, don’t you?” he said. Aziraphale’s breath hiccupped in his chest, and he knew he’d hit the mark. “You want to see me say filthy things to all those sinful people, right in front of you.”

“Wouldn’t it be…h-hear you say them?” said Aziraphale, gratifyingly unsteadily. “Just to be, _ah, _accurate.”

Crowley removed his face from Aziraphale’s crotch and winked at him. Aziraphale’s pupils were dilated to a level that would be alarming if he were human, and his cheeks were porcelain-doll pink. “You’re adorable,” he said. “I mean that. All of you. Not just that.” He indicated Aziraphale’s face. “Or that.” He put a hand on his soft, waistcoat-constrained belly. “Or…this.” He ran a finger down the line of the bulge. “All of it. And it turns me the fuck on.”

“Crowley, don’t tease,” Aziraphale said, words tight and thick with obvious arousal. Even if he were blindfolded and had his sense of touch taken away, Crowley knew that he’d be able to tell exactly what was going on just from that sound.

“’m’not teasing.” Crowley pressed an open-mouthed kiss against him. “Angel, would you like to see how I do it when I record myself? Did, I should say.”

Aziraphale tensed up, thighs shaking enough to make Crowley move a little himself. “Oh, my goodness.”

“Taking that as a yes,” said Crowley. He gave Aziraphale’s cock one last long, loving kiss, then pulled away and stood up. “Come on, angel, let me show you what I did. I’ll try to make it sexy for you.” He extended his hand, and Aziraphale took it, looking dazed. “That’s right, come with me.”

He counted himself lucky that they were already in his flat. Wanking on Aziraphale’s bed would be hot, but it lacked a certain verisimilitude that came with being sexually frustrated in his own bedroom and working it out on-camera. “Here’s what I’d do first,” he said, and stripped his clothes off, spare and efficient as always. He let them fall where they would; folding them was for angels with too much time and terrible sleep habits.

“That’s not very erotic,” Aziraphale said, although his half-disbelieving, half-zombified expression hadn’t changed. “Pulling them off like that.”

“It’s how I did it,” Crowley said. “I’m giving you the full experience, Aziraphale. You should be grateful.” He flashed Aziraphale his sharpest smile. “Wouldn’t be very realistic for me to start a striptease when there’s no one else in the room.”

Aziraphale whimpered and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ah, ah,” Crowley said, “not there. I always had the bed to myself. Um…” He didn’t want to make Aziraphale sit on the floor, even in the name of accuracy. “There. That chair,” he said, and snapped his fingers to make one appear in the corner of the room. “Overstuffed, just how you like it.”

“You’re so kind,” said Aziraphale faintly, and moved to do as he was told.

“I try,” Crowley said, kicking off his socks. “Next thing I’d do is grab the camera.” He found it in the bedside table. “Now…hmm, let’s pretend you’re a regular viewer. How do _you _think From A to C would show off what he’s got?”

“Oh, I…er…very simply?” said Aziraphale. Crowley chanced a look at him and was more than satisfied to see his erection straining against his button fly. Aziraphale was clenching the armrests hard enough to whiten his knuckles. “You – I mean he – just show it off, I suppose.”

Crowley wiggled his hips and watched Aziraphale’s eyes track the movement. “Simple,” he said. “I can do that. How about this?” [He turned on the camera, adjusted its position](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984405), and miracled up a stand at just the right height to get him at his best angle. “Here we go.” Setting the camera in position, he adjusted himself so that he supported his weight on one outstretched hand, legs spread and knees bent. “Now, how about the accent? Regular or Scottish?”

“Scottish, please,” Aziraphale said, sounding not so much like someone making an order at his favorite restaurant as a drowning man clutching at a piece of driftwood. “P-please. The full experience, my dear.”

“Shhhh.” Crowley held a finger against his lips. “Quiet now. I’ve got to think about the things that get me in the mood.” He closed his eyes, more for effect than to truly block him out. It was impossible not to think of Aziraphale undoing his trousers and palming himself as he watched Crowley get into character. Or was it character, really, when From A to C was the open, vulnerable, soft self that he showed no one but Aziraphale? “I’m thinkin’ about my angel,” he said, letting his voice dip low as it settled into the familiar accent. “Like to imagine him watching me. I think he’d give himself a rub. You should, too.”

On the other side of the room, Aziraphale whimpered high in his throat. Crowley could almost see him, head tipped back with the force of emotion and arousal. The sound of fingers on fabric told him clear as day that Aziraphale was undoing his trousers. “Bet my angel’d have himself a wank,” Crowley said, miracling some lube and warming it in his hand. “Feels so good for him to get a hand around himself. Like – _o-oh, _like this.” He drew in his breath with a hiss as he formed a loose fist and stroked himself slowly up and down. The loose skin grew taut with the hardening of his erection. “Oh, _mmmm_…”

He always got hard embarrassingly quickly when he focused his attention on his imaginary version of Aziraphale, but this was so much better. In no time at all, he was fully stiff, and he was also sure that there was no blood left in his head. “Ah –“ His head fell back, exposing the line of his throat in a way he knew the commenters tended to crave, as he pumped himself harder and faster. “_Fffff-_fuck, that’ssss…gonna come sssssoon.” He reveled in not having to hide the hiss; the freedom only made him more aware of the orgasm surging up inside him, the power he could feel in it. “Gonna –“

The last choked-off word was like a pulled trigger, a flipped switch, enough to send him over the edge into an orgasm that whited out the light before his closed eyes. “_Fuck!_” Crowley cried, aware that he was being repetitive and not giving a flying archangelic shit. His hand shook on his spasming cock, working the orgasm out of it with pulsing squeezes. “God…” He couldn’t remember the last time masturbation had felt so good, and he wasn’t even doing anything fancy.

He slumped back against the wall, hitting his head on it with a soft _clunk_. “Ow – oi, angel.” His cock was softening, and with it, he could feel his mental faculties returning. Fantastic. “You come yet?”

“Almost,” Aziraphale gasped. Crowley opened his eyes and blinked as the reintroduction of light made little dancing spots in his vision. When they cleared, he was treated to the sight of Aziraphale with his hand in his tented pants, clearly wanking off with furious intent. “Ah – almost there, my dear, oh!”

“Want some help?” Crowley asked, licking his lips. His tongue was pronged, a sure sign that he could go for another round if he needed it. “I’ll come over and ssssee what I can do.”

“No, darling, I –“ Aziraphale pressed the fingers of his left hand against his mouth as he came all over his right, his hips jerking in the chair hard enough to scrape it backwards. Crowley’s cock twitched with the looming specter of renewed arousal, and he flicked out his tongue to smell the results. That smelled much better than the scent he’d gotten through Aziraphale’s clothes. Satan, sometimes he really loved his more snakey traits.

As soon as Aziraphale came down from his high, Crowley was at his side, sliding into the chair – which obligingly made itself larger in response to a miracle – next to him. “You like that?” he asked, flicking Aziraphale’s cheek with his tongue to make him jump. He smelled like sweat and cooling lust. “Did you like watching how I made my videos, ssssweetheart?”

“I think I do,” said Aziraphale faintly, going pliant as Crowley cuddled him. He was great for cuddling into; Crowley could do it for hours, and on at least three occasions in the last two months, he had. “You imagined me every time?”

“Participating and watching,” Crowley affirmed. “Not that that’s something you ever have to do.” Aziraphale, from what he’d observed through the millennia, was fairly conservative about how and where he exposed his body.

“Perhaps I don’t have to do it,” said Aziraphale, “but what if I want to?”

* * *

** _Dog-Eared: Everyone’s Favorite Book Forum_ **

**NSFW, Books and Otherwise**

_From A to C – porn that’s not actually porn, hot redheaded guy_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_does it count as necro-bumping this thread if I wonder if this guy’s going to make another video? cause, you know, August video. y to the owza. @its-a-me-mario_

**reply from: its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_I think you’re in the clear. It’s only been three months since you posted. Merry Christmas, by the way. Or Festivus, for the restivus._

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_omg merry christmas. you ppl think he and @Fell_From_Heaven ever got it on?_

**reply from: denny5**

_god rest ye merry gentlefucks, let nothing you display. except pleaz display it._

Crowley chortled, pointing at the computer screen. “Really, angel? These are the thirsty little gremlins you hang out with online? For shame. Bad angel.”

Aziraphale gave him a look that could almost be considered a pout if you squinted hard enough at it. “I don’t think any of them are particularly deprived of water, my dear.”

“You know what I meant. Don’t tell me you never hear any slang from those loud teenagers you’re always complaining about. Next thing you know, you’ll be turning into that dog-walking knob from Tadfield.”

“And a very happy Christmas to you, too,” said Aziraphale, sticking his nose just high enough into the air that his mien went from ‘pouting’ to ‘aristo arsehole.’ He was good at that one. “So should I make that post or shouldn’t I? I’m very nervous, you know.”

Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s. “Angel, if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. I’m perfectly happy to shut up about this and never bring it up again. You’re more than enough for me.” Aziraphale was cute when he was nervous, but when it came to riling him up and making him anxious, enough was enough.

Aziraphale shook his head. “I want to,” he said. “I do, my darling. Er.” He shifted a bit in his chair. “As long as – you’re certain no one will know who I am?”

“I haven’t been discovered so far,” Crowley said. “The magic of hiding your eyes and a few low-level demonic miracles. But really, angel –“

“I’ve got half a stiff one as we speak from the very thought,” Aziraphale interrupted loudly, “so I think I know what I’m doing, Crowley!” He turned back to the computer and, as Crowley tried his best to see just _how _truthful that was, began to type.

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Happy Christmas to all! Thank you for the ping. I have a question of a rather personal nature to ask. If it’s inappropriate, please do notify me and I will remove it forthwith._

“Aziraphale,” said Crowley, rolling his eyes, “there’s no such thing as ‘inappropriate’ on these forums. As long as you’re not actively taking your cock out –“

“I practically am!” said Aziraphale. “Or I plan to. And at any rate, I’ve been temporarily banned before.”

“Yeah, because you wrote twenty pages of oh-so-polite excoriation when you thought someone was being wrong on the Internet – don’t give me that look.” Crowley held up a finger. “If you don’t want people going through your post history, then friends-lock your fucking profile.”

“Piffle,” said Aziraphale, and went back to what he was doing.

_Myself and the creator of From A to C have indeed entered a relationship of a romantic nature. I have discovered that I have more than a slight interest in participating in his videos. If I were to do so, and perhaps to occasionally link them here, would that cross the boundaries of what this forum considers appropriate? I wouldn’t want to discomfit anyone, of course. Links, with regards to those who are already familiar with From A to C’s site, would simply cut out the middleman._

_If you don’t wish to respond here, I am always available via private message. Have an excellent holiday, and a happy New Year to all. Cheers!_

Aziraphale half-turned in his seat and glared a singular dagger at Crowley. “If you say a word about my kind words at the end,” he said, “I will sleep on the sofa and you’ll be very cold tonight indeed.”

“That’s fair,” said Crowley, “but neither of us has to sleep tonight if I think of something for us to do instead.”

Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled. “Are you talking about food, sex, or something else?”

Crowley shrugged. “Maybe a combination.” He linked his hands behind his back, unable to completely repress a bit of residual shyness. After centuries of holding back his feelings, making advances didn’t feel like the most natural thing in the world yet, but he was confident that practice would make perfect. “How about I read to you, feed you something with my fingers, and then touch you if you still have an appetite for that?”

“I think,” said Aziraphale, stroking his chin, “that I may very well end up having an appetite for that.”

**reply from: its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_Wow, merry Christmas to all of us, huh??? @Fell_From_Heaven, I’m going to call in one of my fellow mods for a second opinion, but you make good points._

**reply from: shallicomparetheetoasummersmosquitobite**

_aaaAAAAAAHHHHHHH my favorite pr0nz might have a super-hot addition???? i’m assuming @Fell_From_Heaven is super-hot. from A to C has to have good taste, right???_

**reply from: treeofknowledge**

_fuck. me. running._

**reply from: queeshmael_were_lovers [MODERATOR]**

_@its-a-me-mario, I also asked @bopmeonthenose and @booksy for their opinions. General consensus: it’s okay for @Fell_From_Heaven to post links to his and his partner’s (? unsure of the terminology he prefers) videos, provided he talks about them ONLY in the NSFW subforum and only in dedicated threads. Soliciting views or otherwise making people feel uncomfortable will lead to a month-long ban, since he’s already been warned once for non-sexual misbehavior._

**reply from: saymyname-saymyname**

_long-time lurker in this thread, just popping in to say HOLY SHIT, @Fell_From_Heaven, i am literally on the edge of my seat_

“Well, angel,” said Crowley, “I think you’ve got your answer.” It was really adorable how gobsmacked Aziraphale looked when people told him what he wanted to hear. What had he been expecting, an unqualified no? His videos had too many views for that.

“Mm, I think I have,” said Aziraphale. “Shall we start planning?”

“Planning?”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers. A notepad and a fountain pen, embossed with tiny gold cherubs[2], appeared in his hands. “We’ll make a list,” he said. “No weighty endeavor is complete without one.”

* * *

“Have we got the camera?”

“Always,” said Crowley. “Check.”

“What about the stand for the camera?”

“Check.”

“And the –“

“Angel,” said Crowley, “if you’re not comfortable submitting to the mortifying ordeal of taking your clothes off, then we’re not doing this.” He put his fingers on the switch of his favorite mood-lighting lamp. “I’ll ask you again: are you absolutely sure?” He wasn’t doing much better himself, truth be told, although he wasn’t about to share that with Aziraphale. _One _of them had to be the calm one in the room, and clearly it had to be him.

Aziraphale looked down at his crotch, a gesture that shouldn’t have been nearly as hot as it was, given the baffled look on his face. “Oh, yes,” he said. “But I don’t take my clothes off until later in the video, isn’t that right?”

Crowley nodded. “Yep. Remember, the plot is that you caught me wanking. Just like in real life.” He winked, and was gratified to see Aziraphale blush. “And you’ll…you remember how I want you to do it, right?”

Aziraphale’s gaze sharpened, and suddenly Crowley felt naked, even though he’d put on his bathrobe like a porn star. “I do,” he said, and ran the tip of his tongue slowly over his top lip. “If I recall correctly, I don’t even need to take my clothes off. This is all about _your_…transgression.”

A strangled noise tried to make its way out of Crowley’s throat, and only his best self-control allowed him to brutally clamp down on it before it could surface. “Uh,” he said, “um, yeah. That’s, uh. But we’re not doing a transgression, just you…doing me.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale smiled, standing up a bit straighter. He looked, much to Crowley’s relief, to be on ground a little less shaky than before. “So, let’s review. I find you touching yourself on your sofa, and I move to intervene, because I love you very much. And my accent is Welsh.”

“Welsh,” said Crowley. He’d said the same thing when Aziraphale first suggested it. “Really? No other accents? No one’s going to recognize that one.”

“Exactly!” said Aziraphale. “Truth be told, I think it’s the only accent I’m very convincing with these days, apart from my normal one.” He lowered his voice a half-tone. “Does this sound realistic?”

Those little vocal trills were going to be the fucking death of him, or at least the discorporation of him. “Great,” said Crowley, hoping he didn’t sound as strangled as he felt. “Really fantastic, angel. They’ll love you.”

“They already love _you_,” said Aziraphale. “Do you suppose they’ll like the way I look? I don’t have the typical shape for pornography.”

“Angel,” said Crowley, “you have the typical shape for _this _pornography, because it’s not pornography if it’s the two of us. Catch me going anywhere near that mess – I don’t fucking think so.” Hell liked the whole business a lot more than he did. “So, you remember what we practiced, right? I’m on the couch, playing with myself, and then you come in. Back to the camera, remember. I’m putting it at a good angle by the television.” He pointed, feeling a shiver go down his spine. They’d practiced, if you could call it that, the barest basics by walking through the steps and lying fully-clothed on top of each other. This? This was the real thing, and he could feel in his bones that it would be _electric._

The corners of Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled with his tiny, hesitant smile. “I remember,” he said. “I’m eager to do this, too. Why don’t you begin, my dear? Take off your clothes and I’ll turn on the camera. Think about whatever you like, but I do hope it’s me.”

“You hope…it’s _going _to fucking be you,” Crowley sputtered. Aziraphale’s smile widened and sharpened until it was almost predatory. “Get over there, angel. I’m getting undressed.” He undid his jeans and peeled them off his hips, forgoing the usual miracle in favor of watching _that _look spread over Aziraphale’s face. _I want to eat you, _said the look, and he intended to make Aziraphale salivate. “Give me a minute to get naked, then turn that camera on.” He knew Aziraphale knew how.

When his clothes were off, he threw them carelessly over the back of the couch. “Ready?” Aziraphale nodded, tiny and tight. “Good. Let’s go.” The camera’s red light came on as Aziraphale pressed the button, and he closed his eyes. Showtime.

Crowley started off with a few small noises as he reached for the lube on the couch arm and squirted some into his hand. “’s’nice,” he said, pressing his slick hand against his hardening cock. “Hey there. Are you watching?” He heard a tiny intake of breath, not enough for the camera to pick up but definitely enough for his demonic ears to hear. Fantastic – Aziraphale was getting into it. “It’s been a while.” He put a little lube on the fingers of his other hand and plucked at his nipples, the pinpoints of pleasure bringing more blood to pulse in his cock. “Fuck.”

Slowly, he worked himself to full hardness in a loose fist, until he shivered in the cool room from the rush of blood to his pelvis. It had to be now. His heart pounded as he lifted his chin to expose his throat and brought it back down in the tiniest of nods.

“My dear,” said Aziraphale, “whatever are you doing?”

Crowley thought a prayer to whatever non-God, non-Satan force existed in the universe that his camera angle held true and the top part of his face would be obscured the whole time. If not, he’d have a lot of editing work to do. “Angel?” he said, and let his eyes theatrically flutter open. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m watching you.” Aziraphale’s Welsh accent was caramel-smooth and perfect, and Crowley’s cock twitched in his grasp. “Is this what you’ve been doing with yourself, my dear? Touching yourself intimately?”

“Yeah,” said Crowley hoarsely. He breathed deeply, trying not to hyperventilate, as Aziraphale stalked towards him with uncanny grace. Satan, he never would have thought Aziraphale would be capable of that on camera. “Are you upset with me, angel?”

“Goodness, of course I’m not upset.” Aziraphale stopped in front of him, as they’d planned, and sank to his knees, reaching out and laying a hand on Crowley’s chest. “I’m pleased. What were you thinking about?”

Crowley gulped. “Thinkin’ about you,” he said, his voice going from a rasp to a crack. “It’s always been you. You’re…I love you.” The words were a bolt to the heart. On the night he and Aziraphale first got together, he hadn’t had the courage to say it, but this was almost like a do-over. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, my dear,” said Aziraphale. His eyes were bright and brimming, not with tears but with emotion. “But I don’t think that you should do this alone.” He bent his head, and the shadow of his head blotted out the light behind him as he claimed Crowley’s lips.

Whatever blood was left in Crowley’s head had fled by the time he opened his eyes. “What do you want to do?” he said. “Should I touch myself for you, angel?” 

“No,” said Aziraphale, and caught Crowley’s hand when he lifted it off his chest. The possessive note in his voice nearly made Crowley’s eyes roll up in his head. “I want to touch you myself.”

“Oh, _angel_,” said Crowley, and he didn’t even have to exaggerate it. He wondered for a split second if the viewers would find the nickname repetitive, but he didn’t want to have to do more editing; this was easier. “What parts of me do you want to touch?”

“All of you, you wicked thing,” said Aziraphale, and fuck if _that _didn’t go right to Crowley’s cock. He might have to ask Aziraphale to put on the blessed Welsh accent during regular sex sometime. “But why don’t I start with the parts you’ve been touching. That beautiful…” Thank Satan, his pause only lasted a fraction of a second. “That beautiful erection of yours.”

Crowley whimpered, or maybe it was a whine. Either way, Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him and reached down, taking Crowley’s lube-covered hand in his. “You haven’t nearly enough slick here,” he said, and squirted more into his hand. “You want your hand to be nice and slippery when you touch yourself. Hasn’t anyone taught you that?”

“Um,” said Crowley, “I-I think, _hngh -!_” Aziraphale replaced Crowley’s hand with his own on his cock and began to stroke up and down, for once _much too fucking slowly. _“Oh, Sa – I mean _God, _fuck, that’s…” He barely, just barely, kept the accent in place.

“Yes, love,” said Aziraphale. “That’s it, fuck my hand.”

Never in Crowley’s wildest dreams had he imagined that Aziraphale would use that kind of profanity onscreen. He bit back a groan of pure need and did as he was told, thrusting forward into Aziraphale’s waiting hand. Memories of the first time they’d done this raced through this head – he’d barely lasted thirty seconds with Aziraphale touching him, after all that sitting and waiting and loving.

This time, he made it about a minute. Aziraphale’s gentle encouragements of “that’s it” and “you’re doing well” didn’t help in that respect. Crowley came hard and fast all over Aziraphale’s hand with a loud cry and gladly accepted the kiss that Aziraphale pressed to his lips as he rode out the last of it. “I’m turning it off,” he whispered into Aziraphale’s ear, and snapped his fingers in the hidden seam of the couch cushions. A glance told him that the red light had turned off. They were in the clear. “Holy _fuck_, angel.”

“Was that good?”

“Of course it was good!” Crowley said, and looked down Aziraphale’s front. He had an impressive hard-on himself. “Looks like you enjoyed yourself. Do you want me to get you off?” He tried to lift his head and flopped back against the couch, suddenly light-headed. Great, Aziraphale had pulled a Delilah and depleted his strength in a sex ploy. He didn’t think his angel had it in him. “Let me rephrase that. Do you want me to get you off when I can think again?”

“No,” said Aziraphale. Crowley cracked his eyes fully open and looked at him, hoping his expression conveyed the right amount of what-the-fuck. “I’m terribly eager to see what response our video gets. Don’t distract me right now, dear – I’d rather you spent your efforts on editing. And then loading.”

Crowley felt his lip curl. “Do you mean uploading? And how would it distract you to get off? You’re pitching a tent down there, angel.”

“It simply would, and that’s all I have to say on the matter.” Crowley had no idea how Aziraphale managed to look both rumpled _and _buttoned-up, but that was the way he was. Angel magic, probably. “It’ll go down in a few minutes. I’d much rather see your editing process.” Aziraphale clapped his hands. “Ooh, this should be fun!”

“Sure,” Crowley muttered. “Fun.” Aziraphale was fucking weird sometimes, going from shy to gung-ho at the drop of a hat and vice versa. He’d seen the phenomenon a fair few times, usually in situations involving food, but Aziraphale’s willingness to change his mind on pleasures of the flesh never got any less strange. “Right, well.” He cracked his knuckles. “Editing this one shouldn’t take any effort at all. Let’s hop to it.”

Aziraphale beamed. “That’s what I like to hear! Now, I don’t know a thing about computer editing, so I’ll look over your shoulder and observe. Provided that’s all right, of course.”

Crowley shrugged. “Do whatever you want. It’ll be boring.”

“No, not at all,” said Aziraphale. “I’ve never seen editing software in action. Have you ever made a…a ‘deepfake’?”

_Shoot me, _Crowley thought. _Shoot me with a holy water-infused bullet right now. _He was close to sure that he’d discorporated, because Aziraphale talking about this shit was an out-of-body experience if he’d ever had one. “No,” he said as gently as he could. “That’s more the Dukes of Hell’s lookout, but I’ll, um, explain.” God, he hoped Aziraphale didn’t ask too many questions.

“Well, all right.”

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Hello, everyone, and happy 30_ _ th _ _ December. From A to C and I thought to up-load this video tomorrow so that it would be a New Year’s gift, but he convinced me that most people would prefer to drink that day rather than watch us do naughty things to each other. Here is the link. I sincerely hope you enjoy the time spent watching it._

**reply from: stinkstankstunk**

_FIRST!_

_ETA: ok now that that’s out of the way, i am dead of hornyness. you have killed me, @Fell_From_Heaven._

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “They don’t mean it, angel. You haven’t actually killed anyone. Keep going.”

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_I WILL BE IN MY BUNK_

_I WILL LIVE IN MY BUNK, I WILL DIE IN MY BUNK, I AM THE SHIELD THAT GUARDS THE REALMS OF BUNK_

_Jesus fucking Christ @Fell_From_Heaven, is it wrong I feel a little proud I’m the one who first shared this with the <strike>class </strike>forum? because you are so beautiful even from the back. Idk how you don’t have like. people beating down your door 24/7. That. VOICE._

“Crowley, what’s the shield that –“

“You wouldn’t like it,” said Crowley. “You really, really wouldn’t.”

**reply from: books_on_snape**

_@to-kill-a-lockingbird I will take no spouse, I will have no children, my squishy bits are kaput. Dig that old fucker Charles Dickens out of his grave because I have just proved the theory of spontaneous combustion. @Fell_From_Heaven fuuUUUuuUUUCK_

**reply from: its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_Mod hat: thank you for being clear with your intentions, @Fell_From_Heaven_

_Horny porny hat: hoooooooooomg_

_Former English major literary analysis hat: there is something beautiful about the juxtaposition of Scottish and Welsh people in this porn_

**reply from: denny5**

_genitalia hat: SQUELCH_

**reply from: its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_@denny5: be polite._

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_omg. when I first linked this thing, I hadn’t had ANY of my kids. So glad they’re asleep, cause MOMMY HORNY._

**reply from: shallicomparetheetoasummersmosquitobite**

_AAAAA @Fell_From_Heaven is a SNACK_

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_and he’s Welsh. Jesus._

**reply from: books_on_snape**

_I vote we call these two Team Fuck England In the Ear_

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_more like Team Fuck England in the Ass_

**reply from: queeshmael_were_lovers [MODERATOR]**

_@shallicomparetheetoasummersmosquitobite he’s not just a snack; he’s the whole goddamn meal, and we’re all getting seconds. Om nom._

_@Fell_From_Heaven: you have the prettiest voice and the prettiest accent and the prettiest butt._

**reply from: denny5**

_you guys need a fluffer?_

**reply from: its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_@denny5 Dude. WHAT did I just say?_

Aziraphale turned his head, and Crowley saw for the first time how red his face was. “Aziraphale,” Crowley said, “we don’t have to look at all of these. Now you know everyone likes you, yeah? It’s what you wanted.”

“What I wanted was to _share _with people,” Aziraphale said, squeezing Crowley’s hand as he swiveled in his seat[3]. “I’m not looking for adulation. I’m looking for joy.”

Crowley nodded. That specific part of the angel psyche, mostly forgotten for so many years, wasn’t so strange to him now after years with Aziraphale and months _with _him. “You did bring them joy,” he said. “You also brought them a lot of masturbation.” Aziraphale’s cheeks bloomed red again. “Yeah, you did, angel, and you have to deal with it.” He teasingly poked Aziraphale’s plump shoulder. “Do you want to see what kind of comments we got on the video?”

“The website with the video?”

“Yeah. I’ll warn you, it’s vulgar as fuck, but you already know that.”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, “terribly vulgar, but I have to admit I’m curious now.”

Crowley squeezed the back of Aziraphale’s neck, feeling him relax into the touch. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he said. “And you’re curious as an oyster.”

“So I am,” said Aziraphale with a soft chuckle. “Let’s see, then.”

“As you wish,” said Crowley, and clicked.

**reply from: graham69**

_not that i’m complaining but…this video is way shorter than his other ones? not that I blame him, id shoot off really fast too_

**reply from: allday-erryday**

_waaaaay too short_

**reply from: marissa**

_!!! stop it, you’ll make him go away! the new guy is so hot with that accent!_

“Bloody told you,” Crowley said. “Look at you, angel, you’re red all over! Does that blush go all the way down?”

“Oh, Crowley, now you sound like one of them,” Aziraphale said, covering his face with his hands and letting out a strained little sound.

“Are you telling me you _don’t _want to hear more?” Crowley asked. The set of Aziraphale’s shoulders told him everything he needed to know, even before Aziraphale nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s see – this one says ‘damn, shut up, we want him to come back.’ Another one says ‘all you need is a redhead and this video will have the trifecta’. Wow, rude. And this one…” He stopped, fighting the urge to slam the computer shut. “Okay, this one is a little too vulgar, even for me.”

Aziraphale giggled the same way he had when he’d gleefully recounted making Michael miracle him a towel. “Do tell, my darling. I enjoy hearing you when you’re embarrassed.”

“Fine. Um.” Crowley cleared his throat. “’He keeps calling the other guy angel. Did he get touched by an angel or bad-touched by an angel?’ Aziraphale, stop fucking laughing!”

“I’m not, truly I’m not,” said Aziraphale, like a liar. The worst kind of liar, too: a _terrible _one. He wiped the tears of mirth from his cheeks. “Thank you for doing this with me, my darling. I love how adventurous you are with me.”

Crowley playfully jabbed Aziraphale’s shoulder with his elbow, then began to massage his back. Aziraphale moaned and slumped forward, letting his head hang. “Hope this is a good enough reward for doing this with _me_,” he said. “And just so we don’t get caught in an endless cycle of thanking each other, I’ll ask you if that satisfied your lust for…whatever it is we call that, or if you want more.”

“Oh, more,” said Aziraphale in the same tone he’d used the time he tried garlic naan. “I’d like more. I think this is a new fascination of mine. Ooh, would you like to do more with just you? Or just me, if you’d like a break? Or –“

“Angel,” said Crowley, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you _liked _this.” He kissed the tip of Aziraphale’s nose, which twitched. “I kid,” he said off Aziraphale’s nonplussed look. “So what do you want to do next?”

Aziraphale pulled him down onto his lap, ignoring Crowley’s yelp of protest in favor of nuzzling his neck. Crowley’s body lit up with happiness from head to toe and he closed his eyes, moaning softly. “First,” Aziraphale said, “I think we ought to change the name. From A to C – well, it’s not just one of us now, is it?”

“Nnn,” said Crowley, whose body was teetering on the line between loving and lustful. “What’d you have in mind?”

Aziraphale kissed his forehead, and Crowley tipped onto the loving side with only a little regret. Still a demon, after all. “What would you say to…hmm. Oh, I’ve got it – From A _and_ C!”

“I like that,” Crowley said, rolling the words around in his mouth. “From A and C. Just a switch of one word, and that makes a world of difference. Why is language so bollocksed up?”

“I don’t know, my dear.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s chin and lightly rubbed his palms in circles over his back. Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and cuddled into him, soaking up his warmth and letting the purr in his throat come to the surface. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure if he was more snake or cat. “Do you have any ideas for more scenarios? You were so imaginative with all the others.”

Crowley wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist and kissed the top of his head, thanking Someone for his flexible joints. “Give me a few days,” he said, “and I’ll see if I can come up with.”

_scenario: he sends me a present_

He might have been six thousand years old, but even Crowley wasn’t immune to the childish joy of opening a gift box. “Turn on the camera,” he whispered. Aziraphale clacked his vintage clapper[4] and did so, and Crowley turned his attention back to the box. It was immaculately wrapped in shiny metallic paper – gold, with little cupids on it, but he’d take what he could get. “Huh,” he said. “I got a box today. Let’s see who it’s from.”

The box was pleasantly heavy, though he already knew what it contained. “It’s got a card,” he said, and pulled it off the paper, affecting a gasp. “It’s from him!” he said. “Isn’t he nice?” The word made his skin crawl, but Aziraphale had _insisted. _“I should read it for you. Let’s see.” He cleared his throat as he opened the card. “’Dearest darling, you’re the loveliest thing in my life. Please accept this gift. I hope that you remember what I would like you to do with it. Yours sincerely, your angel.”

Crowley grinned. “Sappy, isn’t it?” he said, and repressed a snicker at Aziraphale’s outraged little noise next to the camera. “But I love him for it.” He tore off the paper, crinkling it so that the ASMR enthusiasts would get their jollies, and held the bare box in front of his face. “Naughty angel! I’m gonna have to fuck myself hard on this to thank him.”

He swept his glance up to look at Aziraphale, disguising it as a general look around, and found him chewing hard on the insides of his cheeks. Aziraphale’s entire face was red, and his eyes were dilating by the second. Now _that _was hot. “Bet my _best _friend’d be happy to see me like this,” Crowley said. “Bet that’s why he sent it. He wants me to tell him all about it later. Tell him how I fucked myself ‘til I practically cried.” He opened the box and pulled out the contents with a loud crackling of cardboard. The dildo inside was really a thing of beauty, clear glass with raised flower vines twining up its length. Crowley had no idea where Aziraphale had found it. “Mmm,” he said, and pressed a kiss against the tip. “Reminds me of you, angel. Wherever you are, I hope you’re thinking about me.”

With the help of the lube he’d brought, Crowley spent a leisurely few minutes fingering himself open for the dildo, making sure to tap his fingernails against it and talk dirty about how good it would feel inside him. “It’s warming up,” he said, rubbing his cheek on the textured glass. “It’ll feel like his cock in me.” Aziraphale made a strangled _eep _at that, and Crowley disguised his smile by kissing the dildo as he put a third finger inside himself. “I think I’m ready,” he said around a whine of pleasure. “Don’t you?” He flopped on his side, propping himself up with a pillow for maximum visibility. If there was one thing he’d learned in all this, it was that people liked his arse.

The dildo slid easily inside him once he’d slicked it up. Crowley shuddered and concentrated on not coming all over himself like some archangel on their first wank; the thing had a curve to it that made it slide at just the right angle past his prostate, or whatever the demonic equivalent was. “Fuck,” he said, licking his lips and using his free hand to jerk himself. “Ohhh, h-_hell _yes.”

Even though the flat was cool, and his bedroom even more so, he was boiling-hot all over. Sweat ran down his forehead as he kept fucking himself on quite possibly the best dildo he’d ever tried. “A – _Angel_…” The first vowel twisted itself halfway out of his mouth from the incriminating short ‘a’ of his angel’s name to the long ‘a’ of his title, his nature, his…well, everything. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna, oh _God!_”

Just before his mind blanked out with the force of his orgasm, he wondered if that porn commenter was going to leave another snarky response about how long he hadn’t lasted.

_scenario: my friend and i talk on the phone_

This time, the scenario was 100% real, and Crowley’s heart was pounding in anticipation. Aziraphale was in the shop, but with the phone right next to his ear, he could almost feel Aziraphale’s breath on his cheek when he picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Crowley said, curling his knees up to his chest. “It’s me. How’re you doing?” He ran his tongue slowly over his lips. The camera was focused on them, and he damn well intended to give the viewers what they came for. Bless it, he was going to make that tiny portion of his face sexy. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“You have?” said Aziraphale. Crowley had to hand it to him; he could pull off some convincing porn. His surprise sounded very real. “Hmm. What sorts of things have you been thinking about?”

“Mmm, mostly you doing dirty things to me.” Crowley slipped a hand between his legs and ran his palm over his cock. It twitched in response, beginning to fill, and he sighed. “I’m alone right now. Are you?”

“No.”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. He’d been expecting a yes. He’d _assumed _a yes. “Did you say no?”

“I did,” said Aziraphale, so bloody prim. Save for that Welsh accent, he could have been talking to any other would-be customer in the shop on any other ordinary day. “There are people in the front, my dear. The sound may carry if you’re too loud.” 

Crowley groaned. Of all the things Aziraphale could have said, he’d chosen the sentences that were guaranteed to go right to his cock. “I can be quiet,” he said. “I want to be quiet for you.”

“I know you do,” Aziraphale said. “Talk to me, dear. You’ve been so kind to tell me that you think about me. Tell me more, please.”

Crowley couldn’t resist that voice. “I’ve been imagining you wanking me off,” he said. “Those soft hands of yours.” He worked his own hand between his legs, getting himself hard. “Love the way you touch me.”

“Tell me more,” said Aziraphale. His voice was tinny through the phone line, but Crowley could tell that his breath was coming faster. “You have such an imagination. I might touch myself now.”

He imagined Aziraphale locking the door to the back room with a miracle and sitting in his chair with his cock out like the filthy, hedonistic little angel he was. “Sa – oh, Jesus,” he said, and got even harder at the double blasphemy. “You’re so dirty. I love it when you’re like that. You want to get me all sinful with you, don’t you?”

Aziraphale whimpered. “Your mouth,” he said. “The things you say!”

“Yeah, I do,” Crowley said, lowering his voice to a husky whisper. “I’m rubbing my cock right now, angel. Imagining you doing it for me.” He gritted his teeth as he stroked the sensitive skin of his balls. “I’m gonna get myself off and it’s all for you. D’you wish you were in me?” Keeping up the Scottish accent was even more difficult than usual, but by Satan, he was going to do it.

“I wish you were here,” Aziraphale said. His accent poured into Crowley’s ear like syrup. “I wish you were touching me, my dear. I have my hand in my trousers, did you know that?”

“I could’ve guessed,” said Crowley, stroking himself harder. If he concentrated, he thought he could hear the wet sound of Aziraphale doing just that. Aziraphale always favored a heavy hand with the lube. “I’m completely naked. You should think about that while you wank. Or think about me getting to my knees and blowing you.”

Aziraphale nearly blew out Crowley’s eardrum with the force of his moan. So much for being quiet. _Hypocrite, _Crowley thought affectionately. “Love, I – I won’t l_ahhhh_st.” Something wicked was going on, Crowley could tell; he didn’t draw out words like that unless he was getting close. He started fucking his hand vigorously at the sound of it. “Can I – can I…?”

“Hold on a bit longer, angel,” Crowley whispered, giving the words his sexiest twist. “Can you give me a few more minutes? Can you do that for me? I’ll do it for you.”

Aziraphale let out a noise that was much closer to one of Crowley’s usual choking sputters than his own smoother sounds of surprise. “Ohhh…I can try, but I – I don’t know if I’ll – oh, _Lord _– succeed.”

Crowley could hear how hard Aziraphale was working to keep up the accent, but he loved him all the more for it. “Hold on,” he said, and wrapped a thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock to give himself a little more time.

By his calculations, they both got a reprieve of about five more minutes before Crowley fell apart, crying out and writhing on the bed like he was demon-possessed rather than a demon himself, and Aziraphale helped him drag it out with an amazing series of gasps as he came on the other end of the line.

“Guh,” said Crowley when he’d recovered some semblance of his faculties, panting and sweating and feeling perfectly fucked out. “You’re fantastic, angel.”

Aziraphale got embarrassingly sappy after that, but thank fuck, Crowley had the foresight to turn the camera off first.

* * *

**NSFW, Books and Otherwise**

_From A and C (renamed) – ALL FROM A TO C CONTENT GOES IN THIS THREAD._

**its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_New thread, guys! The old From A to C thread has been locked. @Fell_From_Heaven has joined his partner (again, not sure how you like to be referred to, Fell) in making videos and is now sharing them with us. All the old From A to C videos are still available._

_Ground rules:_

  1. _ We’re playing a little fast and loose with the rules regarding sexual talk about other members here, but sexual harassment is to be considered and reported at @Fell_From_Heaven’s discretion. Don’t make me, @booksy, @bopmeonthenose, and/or @queeshmael_were_lovers use our powers. We don’t particularly like using them for anything other than good._
  2. _ If you want to talk sexually with other members about your reactions to the videos, don’t do it in this thread. That’s what the PM function is for. We’ll try to be understanding about vague insinuations, but don’t go crazy._
  3. _ @Fell_From_Heaven is the one who gets to post and link videos, not you. Do not test us on this._
  4. _ Try not to be weird._
  5. _ Have a lot of fun. __😉_

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Thank you very much, my dear @its-a-me-mario! My darling and I have posted several new videos, viewable here. My, shall we say, parts have not yet appeared; I’ve received several questions on that in the old thread. Please don’t ask._

**reply from: its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_Excellent point, @Fell_From_Heaven. Rule #6: no requests unless he requests them._

**reply from: readinginthemidnighthour**

_@Fell_From_Heaven ur new videos are so CUTE i cant stand it. the one on the phone…shiiiiit i think I left this mortal plane._

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Oh, dear. I’m terribly sorry; I know that’s not comfortable._

**reply from: readinginthemidnighthour**

_lol no it was awesome_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_ok, @Fell_From_Heaven, it’s my civic duty to give you a list of all the things I loved about these new videos: 1) your voice is so, so nice. 2) hngh i can’t even with how soft your hands look, how do you take care of them? 3) can’t get over the fact that you’re Welsh. That accent is so great. 4) not to be creepy, but would From A to C consider growing out his hair again? He has such nice hair._

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_@to-kill-a-lockingbird Thank you very much! Thank you for your compliments, although I must admit that I’m not Welsh. I have lived in a number of places, but the United Kingdom has been my home for many years now. I use lotion on my hands and I make sure to keep them manicured. I can broach the idea about the hair to my darling, and I’m sure he’ll be flattered that you asked. His hair _is _lovely._

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_hot damn, he sounds like an English professor – you can practically hear the sweater vest and elbow patches._

**reply from: i-like-to-read-in-the-dark**

_if my English professor talked like that, I’d let him do me too_

**reply from: books_on_snape**

_Please please please please invite me over, I live in the UK and will do anything._

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_who do you think tops?_

**reply from: books_on_snape**

_@Fell_From_Heaven obvs_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_at the risk of getting too personal, I think From A to C tops. He’s a lot more sexually adventurous because of the videos, so why wouldn’t he want to do that more often?_

**reply from: books_on_snape**

_topping isn’t a matter of being sexually adventurous_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_I’m not trying to cast judgment, just saying it seems more in character_

**reply from: denny5**

_ok, this might seem hypocritical cuz I’m the dirty one in this thread, but…in character?? they’re real ppl, geez_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_ok, fair point, @denny5. Sorry, that was uncalled for. The world may never know!_

**reply from: booksy [MODERATOR]**

_guys, the other mods and I would like to thank you for censoring yourselves and backing down from this topic before it could get dicey. this is dangerous territory. for future reference: no top-bottom discourse, please._

“Top-bottom discourse,” said Crowley, hissing out a laugh. “I should’ve known it would come to this.”

“Oh, I ought to tell them,” said Aziraphale, chewing the pad of one finger. “It’s cruel to leave them guessing. I should tell them that we –“

“No, no!” Crowley said, and grabbed Aziraphale’s hands on their way to the keyboard. “I’m gonna stop you right there, angel. Keep ‘em guessing. I have to sow my demonic dissent somehow, come _on. _This is fun, and it’s harmless, in case you’ve got some angelic objection.”

Aziraphale pouted. “If you must know, I have no ‘angelic objection’ to setting the record straight. In fact, I think I rather want to.”

Crowley turned into a snake for the hell of it and slithered into Aziraphale’s lap, where he curled himself up into a large crotch coil. That was always a warm position, almost as good as a sunbeam. “Let’s see what else they have to say,” he said, and over Aziraphale’s objections, he used the tip of his tail to scroll down.

**reply from: denny5**

_did he say he’s not really welsh?_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_he said he moved around a lot. Probably from a military family or something. you don’t have to read a conspiracy theory into everything, dude. :D_

**reply from: readinginthemidnighthour**

_guys, what if. what if From A to C’s not even Scottish? Conspiracy theory time!_

“Am I allowed to clear that one up, at least?” said Aziraphale, petting Crowley’s head with a warm hand.

Crowley arched into the touch. “Give it a little longer, angel. Let them fight it out. It’s fun.” He flicked out his tongue and tickled Aziraphale’s hand with the forks. “Think of it as an early birthday present.”

“You don’t have a birthday,” said Aziraphale. “None of us do.”

“If we can pretend we have navels, then we can pretend we have birthdays,” said Crowley. “Minor alteration of reality is what we _do_.”

Aziraphale huffed. “I’d like to talk about naughty things with you, you know,” he said, “and it’s rather difficult to do that when you’re a snake.”

Crowley reluctantly transformed back and made himself comfortable in Aziraphale’s lap, arms around his neck. “Naughty things? Dare I ask?”

“Well…” Aziraphale wiggled in place, a sure sign that either he was uncomfortable or he was being shifty. “That talk about topping and bottoming. Do you think they have the right to talk about us like that?”

Crowley frowned. “If you don’t like it, talk to the mods,” he said. “This was _your _idea.” He should have expected this. Cold feet at some point would have been normal even for a partner who wasn’t an angel. “I can take down the videos with you in them –“

“Oh, no, I’m not feeling harassed,” Aziraphale said, kissing Crowley’s chin. “I’m feeling…mm, how do I put it? I’m feeling…_possessive._” He kissed Crowley suddenly, hard and passionate, biting down on his lower lip until Crowley cried out. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Crowley said, feeling a bit like his lungs had been put through a blender. “Er. Just surprised.”

“That’s good, my dear,” Aziraphale said, and smiled. It really was frightening how quickly he could shift expressions, subtle though they could be. “That you’re not hurt, I mean, not that I surprised you. Although I suppose that’s part of the charm.”

Crowley gulped. “_Hng, _um, yeah. So…possessive. What do you want to do about that?”

“Why, I’d like to show everyone who watches our videos that I’m yours, but especially that you’re mine.” Aziraphale licked a stripe down Crowley’s neck and blew on it. The spot of coolness sent a shiver down Crowley’s spine and set every hair on his body standing on end. “If you can maneuver it so that I’m not visible from the neck up, I might be willing to finally, ah, show my bits.”

“_What?_”

“I know you heard me,” Aziraphale said. “And now that I’ve thought about it, I believe I do have a favorite of your videos.” He put his hands on Crowley’s shoulder blades, drawing him closer. “Do you remember your Shakespeare recitation?”

Crowley nodded. “Honestly, that was one of my favorites, too.” He’d gotten so hard imagining Aziraphale watching his recitation with clasped hands and misty, adoring eyes. “I’m not surprised you liked it. Do you like watching me read?” He reached around to try to grab Aziraphale’s arse, but was unfortunately foiled by the chair. “You’re a filthy little bibliophile, angel.”

Aziraphale tangled a hand in Crowley’s hair and kissed him. “Proudly so,” he said when he came up for air. “As long as there have been books to read, I’ve been one. Now.” He curled his hand around the back of Crowley’s head, letting up his grip on his hair but not letting go completely. “We’ve had a bit of fun before, playing with giving orders and such.”

“Uh,” said Crowley, his suddenly-fried brain unable to come up with anything more eloquent in the face of his situation downstairs. “Yes.” Aziraphale liked to pace around the bed while Crowley lay on his back, telling him the things he wanted to do to him, and what he wanted Crowley to do to himself in the meantime. “You want to, er, replicate that?”

“Not exactly,” said Aziraphale, pulling away enough that Crowley could see his pensive look. “But perhaps we could incorporate a bit of that dynamic.”

“Does this have anything to do with that possessive attitude you mentioned?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded. “I’m not surprised. And I’m not saying no, either,” he added, seeing Aziraphale’s face begin to fall. “I’m saying I want to hear your idea.” 

Aziraphale darted his tongue over his lips, frowning in concentration. “What would you say if I told you…hmm, if I told you I might want to connect your orgasms to your ability to recite Shakespeare?” His cheeks went pink, but he stayed the course. “A climax for a job well done?”

Crowley wiggled up in Aziraphale’s lap until he could wrap his legs around both his waist and the back of the chair. “I’d say tell me more.”

_scenario: i practice reading lines for a local play_

“Now, my dear,” said Aziraphale from under the desk, “remember what we agreed on.”

Crowley swallowed to keep his breath even, but it was _really _blessed difficult not to think about a different kind of swallowing instead. “I have to keep my voice steady,” he said, “and if I stop, so do you.” Aziraphale’s voice fit neatly on the savory end of the food metaphors spectrum today, something like a thick, rich reduction sauce.

“Very good.” Aziraphale patted his thighs. “And if you’re very terrible in your recitation, I might have to come up there and do something about it.”

Crowley briefly considered, and rejected, the idea of tanking the whole thing for the purpose of a good fucking in his desk chair. But no, this scenario was Aziraphale’s idea, and he wanted to satisfy him, no matter how turned on he was himself. “Got it. Let’s start.”

He snapped his fingers and looked up to make sure the camera was on, then took a deep breath. “I’m auditioning for _Hamlet _tomorrow,” he said. “Think I’ve got the lines down, but Angel wants me to practice some more.”

“You do need it,” said Aziraphale.

_Shut up, _Crowley wanted to say. “Maybe I do,” he said instead. “So, starting with the monologue from act one, scene two.” Aziraphale’s hands were back on his thighs, lightly rubbing a promise there. “O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt / thaw, and resolve itself into a dew.” Aziraphale dragged his thumbs down the sensitive crease arrowing down from his hips to his cock, and Crowley felt his voice stutter half a step. Aziraphale’s thumbs dug into the thin skin, a warning. “Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d / His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter! O God! God / How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable / Seem to me all the uses of this world.”[5]

He managed to steadily read until the line “That he may not beteem the winds of heaven,” at which point Aziraphale took the head of his cock into his mouth and he lost his place with a shouted “_God!_”

“My, my,” said Aziraphale, “not even halfway through one monologue and you couldn’t avoid a flub? Goodness.” His warm mouth withdrew from between Crowley’s legs, but not without a tantalizing, teasing breath blown over his cock first. “Finish reciting the monologue, if you please, and then move on to the well-known segment from act three, scene one.”

Crowley bit back the _you’ve got to be kidding me, angel _that he wanted to hiss at him, lack of sibilants be damned, and did as he was told instead.

Aziraphale slowly crept back up his shaking thighs as he began to recite the “to be or not to be” monologue, but Crowley was ready for the touch this time. His voice only shook a little as he recited, and Aziraphale took his cock down most of the way and started sucking him.

His vision narrowed to a pinhole when Aziraphale started using his tongue in just the right way, and Crowley thanked his lucky stars that he was reciting instead of reading. “The undiscovered country f-from whose bourn / No traveller returns, puzzles the will – and – and makes us –“ Aziraphale swallowed around him, such a depraved move from an angel who acted so prim. The rest of the words fled Crowley’s head. He could have bullshitted it, but Aziraphale would know. “Angel, I forgot. Please, I’ll…I’ll start over _fuck, don’t _–“

“It’s too late for ‘please don’t, my dear,” said Aziraphale, and climbed out from under the desk, turning his face away from the crotch-height camera as he climbed up and stood in front of the chair. That was impressive, Crowley had to admit – Aziraphale had a natural knack for knowing how to avoid the lens. Maybe it was because he spent so much of his time avoiding everyone except the people he wanted to see. “I’m going to sit on the chair, darling,” Aziraphale said, “and put you in my lap, and I’m going to _have _you.”

The word hit as hard as ‘fuck’ would have. Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and let out a tiny squeak. “You…will?”

“I will,” Aziraphale told him, and picked him up by the waist before settling in the chair and putting Crowley on his lap. Crowley instinctively spread his legs to straddle him, just as he had when they were discussing this whole blessed scenario. “Now, please take off my trousers, dearest, and begin reciting. And remember, you’re not to diddle yourself, no matter how hard you become. I control your climax tonight.”

_Diddle. _There was no way a word like that had any right to be as hot as it was, except for the fact that it had come out of Aziraphale’s mouth. “Y-yes,” Crowley managed, and undid Aziraphale’s trousers. “I should…finish, right?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “Finish your lines, and then start Ophelia’s monologue from the third act, if you please. Stand up, undo my things, and show me your lovely cock, darling.”

Crowley swallowed around the aroused lump in his throat. “And makes us rather bear those ills we have,” he said, standing up so he could slide Aziraphale’s trousers and underwear down to his feet, “than fly to others that we know not of?”

“Good,” said Aziraphale, “very good. Finish the monologue standing, then sit back on my lap before you start the next. You’re mine.” He trailed a finger down Crowley’s breastbone. “_Mine_.”

The room tilted with every dirty word out of Aziraphale’s mouth, but somehow, Crowley finished the monologue, even as Aziraphale began to stroke him with alternating pulls from both warm hands. “O, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown,” he gasped as he climbed back into Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale had chosen well; Ophelia really was perfect for his mindset right now, save for all that suicide rot.

He let his eyes fall closed, but could still tell from the sound that Aziraphale had taken out a tube of lube. “Yes, that’s it,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley felt a lubed hand close around his cock. “Would you look at that? You’re rock-hard for me. My, my.”

“The…the glass of fashion and the mold of form,” Crowley said, whisper clashing with whimper as he looked down. Aziraphale’s plump hand was a study in contrast, pale skin and neat nails next to his unruly red cock. “Th’observed of all observers, quite, quite…d-down.” He looked pleadingly at Aziraphale, whose parted lips and heavy breathing belied his state of arousal just as much as his hard cock, its tip just shy of Crowley’s balls. There was nothing _down _about either of them. “Angel…”

“Finish,” said Aziraphale, “and close your eyes again.”

Crowley did. As he stuttered through Ophelia, he felt Aziraphale spread his legs farther apart with a firm hand on each thigh, then move backwards – and suddenly, there was a lubed finger teasing at his arse. Crowley drew in a deep breath, and the words nearly fled his head. “Like…sweet…sweet bells jangled,” he gasped, “out of tune and harsh,” and Aziraphale slid his finger inside, crooking it up. “That unmatched…f-form and…oh, _angel_ – and _ffff_feature of blown y-youth.”

“You’re learning your lines so well,” said Aziraphale. He had his face hidden in Crowley’s shoulder, and his hair tickled the sensitive, sweaty skin. “Now, finish this monologue. You’ll get the role for certain, my dear.” He drew out his finger, replacing them with his index and middle fingertips to the first knuckle. “If you finish with no more interruptions, then I will finish _you_.”

“Jesus bloody Christ,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale twitched his fingers inside him. “I’ll allow that. Now continue.”

Crowley did, and Aziraphale worked his fingers inside him slow and deep until he could have cried with how amazing it felt. “Blasted with ecstasy,” he said. “O-oh, woe is me…” One line left. He could do this. He could fucking do this. “T’have seen what I…what I have seen, see what I see!” Aziraphale had three fingers buried inside him and Crowley could barely breathe. And he had finished. “Angel?”

Aziraphale crooked his fingers inside him instead of replying, and Crowley cried out, his cock twitching – and then Aziraphale had the thumb and forefinger of his other hand around the base of him. “Not yet,” said Aziraphale, and withdrew his fingers. “You’re a very bad boy, leaking all over the place. No self-control.” He clucked his tongue. “But perhaps I should take it as a compliment that I can arouse you that much. I’m going to sit you down on me.” Only the slightest strain in his voice and his insistent erection betrayed his lust. “Forwards, dear.”

Crowley hastened to turn around and face away from Aziraphale, and groaned when Aziraphale’s hands locked on his hips and the head of his cock slid inside him. Aziraphale pressed his face against Crowley’s back, and Crowley could feel the heat of his face. Was it embarrassment, or want? “God…”

“You’re very tight around me,” Aziraphale said. The vibrations of his voice traveled down Crowley’s spine. “Are you doing that on purpose, you little devil?”

“Nuh,” said Crowley, and tightened around him harder. “Now th-_that _was on purpose.”

Aziraphale made a noise that was _far _too close to a growl to be entirely angelic, and fucked him until he saw stars. When he came to the sound of Aziraphale’s cries ringing in his ears, the thought briefly crossed his mind that _not _falling off the chair was probably the Almighty’s way of thanking them for providing Her with wank fodder.

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Good afternoon, everyone. Here is another From A and C video that may interest you. I play a supporting role, but my darling is, of course, the star._

**reply from: eatmyshortstories**

_I just died and went to heaven_

_(holy fucknuggets, talk about flaxen hair – are you a Disney princess?)_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_this is. like. Victorian porn. So proper and fussy and so utterly hot._

**reply from: books_on_snape**

_@Fell_From_Heaven is this your answer to our weird creepy discourse? You’re uh, REALLY attractive when you’re possessive. Seconding the Victorian porn thing, although @to-kill-a-lockingbird you should know better, the Victorians were totally kinky_

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_I agree wholeheartedly about the Victorians. There are a number of stories I could tell you, but alas, they’re rather too salacious for even this forum._

_@eatmyshortstories – good gracious, are you all right?_

**reply from: shallicomparetheetoasummersmosquitobite**

_can we all just agree that @Fell_From_Heaven’s mad-literalist replies to everyone’s hyperbole are the funniest thing to happen all day? Also, his dirty talk is hotter than Hellfire._

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_@shallicomparetheetoasummersmosquitobite Oh, dear, I should certainly hope not!_

“My word, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “I think your African violet likes my windowsill more than your flat.”

Crowley scowled at the ungrateful plant in question. “It shouldn’t like _any _windowsill,” he said. “Those things thrive when you don’t pay them attention. If it’s only getting occasionally watered, why should it care where the sunbeam’s coming from? Oi,” he said to the plant, “are you a plant or a cat?”

Aziraphale chuckled and sipped at his tea. “You know, Crowley,” he said, “that brings up a point I wanted to discuss with you.”

Crowley looked at him. “Yeah?” Aziraphale didn’t _seem _angry, but you never knew. There were plenty of times he’d thought he was in the clear in Hell after a temptation gone wrong, only to figure out too late that he’d misjudged the calm expressions and would be getting a very painful slap on the wrist[6]. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing bad,” said Aziraphale. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’m not angry.” He patted the space next to him on the sofa. “Would you like to sit with me?”

Crowley gladly went, leaning against Aziraphale to soak up some of his heat. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, taking another sip, “this is the third plant you’ve brought over for me.”

“It brightens up the space,” Crowley said. “Your bookshop’s gloomy as fuck. Even here, and this is supposed to be your personal space.” He gestured around the back room. “I know you like old things, but you’re more vibrant than all this.”

Aziraphale _tsk_ed. “To each their own,” he said. “What I mean to say is that…erm. You’ve brought me plants, and you stay here on occasion, and…ah, would you consider moving in? With me? To stay, I mean. Not that you’ve got to get rid of your flat – the plants do love it there –“

“_What?_” Crowley didn’t mean to interrupt Aziraphale’s nattering, but that was just…it was just too weird. “You want me to move in with you?”

Aziraphale went pink. “You’re doing it a bit already,” he pointed out. “But…oh, dear, I wish I hadn’t said anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Crowley. If you’d rather not –“

“Angel,” Crowley said, taking Aziraphale’s hand, “I might not be saying yes right this minute.” He held the back of his hand against Aziraphale’s cheek. “But I’m not saying no, either.”

* * *

[1]Aziraphale was old-fashioned as fuck, and it didn’t seem right to say or even think “pants” like he did for his jeans, even if everyone else in Britain had caught up to the Americanisms of the twenty-first century.

[2] The tiny Valentine’s Day kind, not the guardian-of-Eden’s-gates kind.

[3] The seat technically did not have a swivel function, but that hadn’t stopped him before.

[4] No, Crowley had not been able to talk him out of that. Yes, he’d asked. Begged, even.

[5] He would have thought Aziraphale’s choice of monologue was a particularly cruel invocation of dramatic irony if he hadn’t seen how starry Aziraphale’s eyes went when he heard it back in 1601.

[6] This was before he mastered the art of lying his arse off to Head Office, obviously.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tutted. “Don’t be vulgar.”
> 
> “Wha…you…” Crowley’s brain made a valiant attempt to replicate the dreaded Blue Screen of Death. “You just – and you’re calling me – pot, meet bloody kettle!”
> 
> (Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship moves forward.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to Caedmon (caedmonfaith on Tumblr) for beta-reading this chapter! And thank you to everyone's who's read and/or commented, because your enjoyment gives me life.
> 
> This chapter contains some roleplay. The linked art in the massage section is by my friend, the amazing Gearsmoke, who did the art that I linked in the first section.

Crowley’s hair had grown to his earlobes by the time the weather really began to warm up, for a given value of soupy, almost semisolid, very _English _value of warming up. Contrary to what all the viewers might think, it wasn’t for them. He just liked having more hair for Aziraphale to run his hands through on quiet nights.[1] The new-old length was for _him_, just like his insistence that Aziraphale needed a bigger fucking bed if he wanted Crowley to stay overnight on a regular basis. Crowley liked to sprawl. If he also liked to watch Aziraphale flop over in the night, that was his business.

A select few of Aziraphale’s motions when he slept gave Aziraphale an idea, one that he didn’t bring up until a month into their new whatever-it-was arrangement (no need for a capital A, not anymore). When he finally did, it was over the breakfast cuisine of Aziraphale’s choice, because Aziraphale’s culinary Francophilia also extended to croque-monsieur and various cream sauces.

“Has anyone ever told you that you hump the sheets when you sleep?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale dropped both his fork and his jaw. Thankfully, there was nothing in his mouth; Crowley had no desire to encounter see-food. “What…_what _did you just say?” he shrilled.

Crowley took a second to reconsider his life choices, then soldiered on as bravely as he could. “I didn’t say it was a _bad _thing,” he said, lifting his hands placatingly from the table. Aziraphale’s face was still frozen in a look of alarm. “Look, angel, I’ve noticed it when I stay over, all right? Sometimes when you decide to sleep, you have a, um…saucy dream. Probably. I mean, why else would you start, er…start moving your hips like…” His face went hot. “What am I supposed to say? That I _don’t _notice something you do that turns me the heaven on?”

“It’s not that I _mind_, exactly,” said Aziraphale, “but why in the world did you bring it up over _breakfast?_” He looked very much like he wanted to put a protective hand over his plate, or the jug of juice. Maybe little pitchers really did have big ears. “You didn’t want to…?”

“No, angel, keep eating,” said Crowley, a little amused. “I didn’t want to interrupt _that. _I just happened to notice it again last night. Good dream?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale went pink. “Er, rather.” He picked up his fork and contemplatively chewed another bite. “I dreamt I…it’s very silly, I’m warning you. Very silly and extremely sappy.”

Crowley shrugged. “I like a bit of sap.”

That made Aziraphale smile, just like Crowley hoped it would. “If you put it that way, I don’t suppose I have any real argument,” Aziraphale said. “I dreamt we were lying in a field of very pretty flowers. Nude, of course. You were lying on top of me, and I remember the sky kept changing colors. Is that too strange?”

Crowley shook his head. “I’ve had stranger dreams before. Dreamscapes are weird.”

“Ah. Oh, good. Anyhow, we were rubbing against each other, and you were ever so hard, and I…well, perhaps it’s no surprise that it carried over.” Aziraphale rubbed the back of his neck and looked Crowley in the eye. “So that’s what happened.”

Crowley shifted in his seat. He couldn’t help it. Aziraphale’s half-innocent little dream recollection was hotter than any other one he’d heard. “Good dream,” he said. “Yep, that’s a good dream.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Good reason to hump the bed. You’re not upset that I watched, are you?”

“Of course not,” Aziraphale said. “You’re not forbidden to watch me while I sleep, dear. I love you.” He smiled. “You might have chosen a _slightly _more circuitous method of getting to the point, but no matter.”

“I don’t mince words,” said Crowley. “Anyway, you gave me an idea.” And an erection, but he could only take care of one of those in the bathroom while Aziraphale slept. “What if I filmed you doing that? While you’re awake, obviously. Just a sleepy wank.”

“Mm.” Aziraphale dug back into his breakfast, and it was a few minutes before he spoke again. Crowley knew better than to interrupt his food time. “What sort of format did you have in mind?” he asked, halfway through his remaining croque-monsieur. He had a speck of sauce on his upper lip, and Crowley watched the tip of his tongue as he licked it off. “Did you want to…to help me while I did it?” His cheeks and the tip of his nose went pink. “The logistics might be a bit difficult if I’m on my belly.”

It was a good point, but Crowley had had plenty of time to think about positions earlier, while he was taking care of his problem. “I wasn’t planning to be in the video,” he said. “Thought I’d hold the camera. I wouldn’t even talk – it could just be you, pushing yourself against the bed. Coming in your pants, if you want.”

“Do you really think people would like that?” Aziraphale asked. “Would _you _like it? There are so many jokes about premature –“

“Gonna stop you right there,” said Crowley, “and tell you that the videos where _I _come in my pants tend to have more views than the rest of my stuff. People like to see me lose control. I’d bet anything they’d love to see it happen to you, too.” He knew he would. Getting orgasms out of his angel before he even had his trousers off was a triumph for him, delicious proof that Aziraphale was a living being capable of the heights of helpless pleasure. The viewers had no way of getting all that through the camera, obviously, but if they got a tenth of what Crowley did out of it, it would be a very popular video indeed.

Aziraphale took a hasty drink of water. “Oh, my,” he said. “I can’t say the idea isn’t appealing.”

Crowley nodded. “How about it, angel? You feel like trying out a situation where I’m the one behind the camera?”

Aziraphale’s eyes glowed. “Absolutely.”

_my angel has a sleepy wank_

It turned out that Aziraphale had liked the idea of wearing pajamas after all, but Crowley had had to talk him out of wanking in his favorite ones. “Look, why waste any miracles?” he asked. “If it’s ones you don’t like so much, you can just shove ‘em in the laundry. Besides, weren’t you worried about being recognized?” And Aziraphale hadn’t had any good rejoinder to that.

Now he lay on his belly, Crowley holding the camera over him so that his plump arse was on full display as it stretched the striped pattern of his pajama trousers. The viewers, Crowley thought, would definitely like this angle, almost as much as he loved this angel. “Ready?” he said, and gently squeezed one of Aziraphale’s thighs. “I’ll turn the camera on whenever you are.”

“Mm-hm.” Aziraphale nodded into the pillow. He’d chosen his fattest, most feather-filled one for this purpose, and had spent an hour choosing, much to Crowley’s annoyance. “I’m ready, my dear.”

Crowley gave his thigh one last pat, removed his hand, and thanked Satan for his demonic ability to hold the camera steady without his arms cramping up as he pressed the ‘on’ button.

Aziraphale began with restless, aimless movements of his hips against the bed, just as he did in his sleep; Crowley had been careful to accurately describe how he did it. Crowley felt himself stirring between his legs, and rolled his eyes at himself. _Yes, he’s hot, but compartmentalize, you berk, _he thought at his cock, which at least stalled in response.

Aziraphale’s hips began to move with more purpose, and his heavy breaths turned to little whimpers that went straight to both Crowley’s heart and his groin. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Oh…” Even soft as they were, Crowley could see the muscles in his arse and thighs tensing with his rhythmic movements. Whenever he forgot that Aziraphale had once been the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and was still strong enough to lift a rock like it was made of Styrofoam, Aziraphale reminded him – intentionally or otherwise. “My…mmm, my _dear_,” Aziraphale moaned, and braced his hands on either side of his pillow, pressing his face harder into it as his hips rocked in little circles.

Crowley concentrated very hard on holding on to the camera, rather than his cock, and was rather more proud of himself than he should have been when he succeeded.

It took Aziraphale about ten minutes of grinding into the bed, parted lips and determinedly-set round chin telegraphing how hard he worked, to come so hard that the bed shuddered beneath him. “Ah – _ah, _oh, d-darling, oh…” His hips worked through it, jagged thrusts downwards now instead of circles, and Crowley was hard enough to jackhammer through a city sidewalk by the time he turned the camera off.

Aziraphale sighed into the pillow, a long and contented whisper of sound, and turned over. Crowley’s eyes roamed hungrily over the wet blotch at the front of his trousers. “Was that good, my dear?” Aziraphale asked; he sounded sleepy and sated, and looked like the snack his beloved book forum described him to be. “Did you like it as much as they will?”

Crowley bit his knuckle to keep from groaning so loudly that the pervert booksellers[2] next door would hear him and complain. “Think so,” he said, pleased that he’d managed to sound only a bit strangled. “Yeah, I’m…I’m sure they’ll go batshit for it.”

Aziraphale tutted. “Don’t be vulgar.”

“Wha…you…” Crowley’s brain made a valiant attempt to replicate the dreaded Blue Screen of Death. “You just – and you’re calling _me _– pot, meet bloody kettle!”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and smiled, waving a hand and miracling himself clean. Crowley whimpered as the spot in his trousers vanished, his delicious, delicious proof. “Come here, kettle,” he said, “and I’ll make you feel wonderful. How’s that for a pot?”

Normally, Crowley hated Aziraphale’s puns. Not that he had any objection to puns in general, but Aziraphale had never quite gotten the hang of the difference between real humor and groan-worthy failed jokes that needed to be consigned to the realm of everyone’s embarrassing uncle. This time should have been no different, but his erection changed the circumstances. “Don’t call me a kettle again,” he said as he climbed up on the bed, “and I might forgive you.”

_scenario: i get a massage for the first time_

Madame Tracy had been happy enough to loan them the massage table, but Aziraphale had taken her warning to sterilize it before _and _after a bit too much to heart. Crowley could have done without the hour of fretful cleaning, but better to be safe than sorry. The only bodily fluids he liked, apart from his own, belonged to Aziraphale.

Now he lay on his back, the smooth leather of the table cool against him, with a cushy blindfold over his eyes and a sheet over his lower half. His nipples were already hard from the temperature in the room, which he would swear Aziraphale had lowered on purpose. It would be just like him, the bastard.

With his eyes covered, every sound seemed louder, every sensation magnified. He heard the soft click of Aziraphale turning the camera on, and his quiet footsteps as he circled around the table. “Hello, my dear fellow,” said Aziraphale, stopping at Crowley’s left side. “I’ll be your masseur today. Have you ever had a massage before?”

“No,” said Crowley. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, long enough to be rather good at it, I should think,” said Aziraphale. “You wrote on your forms that you haven’t any skin allergies, so I’ve brought in a few bottles of massage oil for you to choose from.” Glass clinked on glass, probably him showing him the bottles to the camera. “Now, do you prefer orange and spice, jasmine, or our house blend? It’s meant to be a romantic scent, but since you’re alone…”

Crowley waited the agreed-upon number of seconds before responding. “I don’t mind being romantic with myself,” he said, and bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling at Aziraphale’s tiny indrawn breath. “So you’ll get my front, then my back?”

“That’s the plan,” Aziraphale said, “unless you’d prefer to begin the other way ‘round.”

“I wouldn’t change the way you normally do things,” said Crowley, letting a drawl work its way into his speech. “Front first is fine. How do you want me?”

“You’re already in the perfect position. I’ll begin with your shoulders.” There was a noise of oil being poured into a waiting palm, and a belated tapping of fingernails on glass. Then Aziraphale laid his slick palms on Crowley’s shoulders and began to massage, and Crowley couldn’t help groaning. “Goodness, you’re very tense. Do you have a lot of stress in your everyday life?”

Crowley took a second to find his brain. “You have no idea.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale cooed, “you poor man. It’s a good thing you came here. I’ll make you feel so relaxed that you won’t even know what day it is.”

_Bloody hope so, _Crowley thought. “That sounds very promising,” he said. “I’m at your disposal.”

“I should rather think that I’m at yours,” said Aziraphale. “After all, you’re paying.”

Crowley needed to sit him down sometime and explain that not even the good stuff had this much plot, but for now, all he could do was go with it. “Sounds good,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”

Aziraphale hummed in assent and went back to rubbing his shoulders, working the knots out of his trapezius and then moving on to massage each shoulder with both hands. “You’re very thin,” he said in a conversational tone. “Oh, I do apologize. It was only an observation – I’m not trying to insult you. Do you, ah, exercise?”

“Not really,” Crowley said, and shivered as Aziraphale began to massage the area around his collarbones. The smell of the massage oil wafted up to his nose; it really was very nice. He’d have to ask Aziraphale later where he’d gotten it. “Sometimes I go for a walk. Guess I’m just skinny.”

“It’s a lovely figure,” Aziraphale said, and swiped a thumb slowly along the length of each collarbone. “I’m going to rub a bit of oil into your neck, and then I’ll move down to your chest, if that’s all right.”

“Mm-hm. ‘S’okay.”

Aziraphale drew a finger down to his breastbone. “Oh, good. You’ll enjoy this.”

He didn’t spend very long on Crowley’s neck, just enough to leave the skin warm and slippery. He really _was _good at this – maybe one of these decades, Crowley could suggest that he get a degree in it or something, as long as the massages he gave other people didn’t involve this one’s intended ending. “All right,” said Aziraphale. “I’m moving on to your chest now. I’ll try to warm the oil up, but if it’s cold, I do apologize.”

“Bit cold in here,” said Crowley. To his surprise, he was slurring his words – not quite at drunk levels, probably barely audible, but still. Aziraphale really _was _great at this. “Is it always?”

“I’m afraid the heater isn’t quite working as it should be,” said Aziraphale. “I’m ever so sorry.” He uncapped the bottle and tapped it again with his nails, which he’d left a bit long at Crowley’s request. “Here we are.” He rubbed his slippery hands over Crowley’s chest, leaving the skin tingling from his collarbones to his belly. “My goodness, you have goosebumps. Would you like another blanket?”

“’m’okay,” Crowley mumbled. “Feels – _nng_…” Aziraphale was rubbing little circles on his chest with his open hands, and on the last one, he’d caught both nipples. They’d worked it out beforehand, so he knew it was on purpose, but it still felt incredible. “Feels good. I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale brushed a fingertip against his left nipple. “All right, if you’re sure,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He drew circles around Crowley’s tightening nipples, which crinkled to full hardness so fast that his chest ached. “I have a hard time believing that you’ve never had a massage before. You’re responding so beautifully.”

Crowley’s hands curled into fists under the sheet, nails digging into his palms. “Trying to…don’t want to make you mess up.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh, my dear boy, I don’t think you could. I’ve been doing this for far too long.” Crowley was beginning to wonder if that could be true. This massage had shades of the Roman baths, centuries and centuries ago, where he had once upon a time been known to show up for the occasional temptation. “You have a lovely firm chest.”

The echoing chuckle that Crowley tried for came out as a weak grunt. “I bet you say that to all your clients.”

“Hmm, well. If I say that I don’t, will you call me unprofessional?” Aziraphale slowly ground the heels of both hands against Crowley’s nipples. “I wouldn’t like to make you so uncomfortable that you never come back.”

Crowley’s hips lifted, and he brought them back down with difficulty. It wouldn’t do to telegraph to the camera too early on. “Maybe just a little uncomfortable. I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. Crowley could hear the stifled laughter in his voice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He teased Crowley’s nipples a little more, then left them maddeningly hard and moved down his ribs to his belly, tickling him along the way. “Goodness, I’m sorry,” he said when Crowley jerked and let out a series of embarrassing peeping noises, but Crowley could tell that he wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know you were ticklish. Should I avoid that area?” He circled around Crowley’s navel, then went back to his nipples. “Oops.”

Crowley jerked, and immediately tried to right himself. Whether or not he was successful was something he would no doubt find out in editing. “It’s…it’s okay.”

“Hmmm.” Aziraphale wiggled each nipple between two fingers, and Crowley suddenly had to expend a great deal of energy on not biting through his lower lip. And then came his theatrically indrawn breath. “Oh!”

“What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale touched Crowley’s belly. “What’s that I see? Is that an _erection?_” Said erection rose even higher at the words, like some sort of demented plant. “Oh! You’re a terribly dirty customer!”

Crowley turned his head to the side, flushed with fake humiliation. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying for a small, ashamed voice. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Is it all for me?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded. “My, my, how flattering.” Suddenly there were thumbs on Crowley’s nipples again, making him gasp and flail. He thought about the hooks on the underside of the massage table, the ones Madame Tracy had said were for ropes before she went oh-so-mysteriously silent on the matter. “Whatever would we do if the front room heard you? How naughty.”

“Wouldn’t…wouldn’t want you to lose your job,” Crowley gasped. “I can…leave. Take care of it on my own.”

“Certainly not,” said Aziraphale, and slid a warm hand under the sheet, touching Crowley’s erection with fingers that were far gentler than Crowley needed. “Oh, my, you’re hard as a rock! Did I do that to you?” Crowley nodded, wishing he could see what Aziraphale was doing. “It would be dreadfully remiss of me to leave you in this state, don’t you agree?” He rested his hand on the patch of hair above the base of Crowley’s cock. “I ought to take care of you.”

Crowley bit the insides of his cheeks hard, thankful for demonic healing. He’d once known a human who was so nervous in disposition, she’d destroyed her salivary glands that way. “P-please,” he said, his breath coming in short bursts through his nose. “Please, I know it’s risking your…your job, but just…I need you.”

Aziraphale withdrew his hand, eliciting a whimper from Crowley. Then there was a noise of slick skin rubbing against skin, and his hand returned, coated with oil. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he said. “I would never leave a customer in such a state, if they had ever developed it. [You’re the first.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566271)

“That’s a – _ohhh_ – that’s a s-surprise,” said Crowley through gritted teeth as Aziraphale made a loose fist around his cock, stroking slowly up and down. Then Aziraphale pulled back the sheet with his free hand and Crowley shivered with the exposure to the cool air. “I bet you’re so pretty”

“Oh, thank you,” said Aziraphale, and gently tickled Crowley’s balls until the skin crinkled. “You’re very lovely yourself. I noticed it when I saw you come into the spa. I was very pleased when I was told that you were my customer.”

Crowley’s ears went hot. He never knew what to say when Aziraphale complimented him. “You’re sssweet…fuck, right there!”

“Yes, my dear fellow,” Aziraphale said, “I know. I’m taking care of you. I’ll make you feel so very good.” He had both hands on Crowley now, one on his cock and one teasing his balls and the space behind them. “Isn’t this nice? So much nicer than…what was that lovely phrase you used? Being romantic with yourself. Let me give you a lovely, slow rub. Lie back and appreciate it.”

“Not too slow, r-right?”

“Of course not,” said Aziraphale. “I wouldn’t dream of making you wait.”

He didn’t. Crowley had to give it to him: despite the fact that he was torturing him, despite the fact that it _felt _like forever, he didn’t drag it out. Crowley came with a wail that almost turned into a sob – the combination of the oil and Aziraphale’s naughty play felt so good. “Angel,” he whimpered when he’d come down and was sure the camera was off, “how the fuck…?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, and came up to remove the blindfold. “I really don’t.” He kissed Crowley gently, and Crowley welcomed the touch. “You’re so beautiful, my dear. I think it came to me instinctively. You aren’t upset with the language I used, are you?”

“Heaven, no.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s face and kissed him again. “Maybe a little worried that you’re better than me at this, but you got me so worked up, I might be able to go again.”

“Might,” Aziraphale echoed. “Well, my dear, that’s a challenge I would be more than happy to accept.” He stroked Crowley’s hair. “After I rehydrate you, that is.”

Crowley couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Aziraphale would always be Aziraphale.

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_you know what I love about these latest videos? They’re getting so fluffy and domestic (and also porny and still hot as hell). it’s gone from mostly “my friend” to a mix of “my friend” and “angel” or “my angel.” both hot and adorable – it’s like Fell and From A to C are falling more in love. Know what I mean?_

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_I wonder how long the two of them have known each other._

_Is it weird I’m asking that without like, pinging him or something? Or would it be more intrusive to ping him about this?_

**reply from: i-like-to-read-in-the-dark**

_Might be weirder to ping him, tbh. I don’t know, LOL, sometimes I feel like I’m watching a slow-motion record of them falling in love when I watch the porn. @to-kill-a-lockingbird is right about that._

_Or maybe I’m just getting sappy with Denny on vacation. Heheh. @denny5 come back soon!_

**reply from: denny5**

_lol I get internet on vacation, my dude. can’t help you there, i’m a sap too._

**reply from: i-like-to-read-in-the-dark**

_Great. As @Fell_From_Heaven said in one of his videos, oh good lord. :D Ugh, we all have such weird fucking kinks for Fell and his domesticity, I think someone needs to perform a mass brain scan and retire rich on the case studies._

* * *

“That,” said Aziraphale as he came into the kitchen, “is a gorgeous smell. What is it, Crowley?”

Crowley looked up from the pan on the stove. “Channa masala,” he said. “You love the stuff from that takeaway place, so I thought I should learn how to make it. In case they ever close or something – and no, I’m not going to make it happen,” he said off Aziraphale’s stricken look. “I think it’s just about ready.” He leaned over the pan and breathed in the spicy smell as he stirred the chickpeas. “Definitely almost ready. Do you want to try some?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” said Aziraphale. Crowley lifted the spoon in invitation, and he came over, opening his mouth for Crowley to pop it in. “Oh! _Mm, _yes,” he said as soon as he’d finished his bite. “Crowley, you have a talent for this. Have you ever considered –“

“Whatever you’re about to say, I probably have and I’ve probably already decided against it,” said Crowley. “I don’t want to cook for a bunch of random sods, I want to cook for _you. _I know I’m good.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “No, I mean I know I’m good enough that people would start making orgasmic faces when they ate, and I don’t want to associate that with anyone but you. Might as well page bloody Freud if that happens.”

Aziraphale put his hand over his mouth and giggled. “Oh, Crowley, the things you say.” His eyes drifted to the dish towel-covered plate next to the stove. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah, probably – and there he goes,” said Crowley, amused, as Aziraphale pulled off the towel and tore a piece of warm naan to shove in his mouth. “Yeah, that’s not nearly as good as the takeaway place. I freely admit, I can’t make Indian food as well as Indian people can. You’ll have to deal with that weakness, angel.”

Aziraphale nodded and tore off another piece. “What a _dreadful_ weakness. Dear me, the horror of loving a demon who can’t cook as well as the people who invented the recipes!” He pressed a hand to his forehead and pursed his mouth into a little moue of fake distaste that made Crowley laugh. “Did you like my humor?”

“Angel, of all the things to love about you, I’m happy to say that your sense of humor is starting to become one of them.” Crowley turned the stove off with a miracle, all the better to piss off Hell, and hugged Aziraphale from behind. “No lassi, but I got bubble tea from your favorite place while you were out. Where’d you go?”

“The florist,” said Aziraphale. “That reminds me – will you come out into the living room, my dear? You should see what I brought you.”

Crowley’s heart fluttered in his chest. Flowers? Aziraphale had brought him flowers? “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go see.” He went out into the living room, trailed by Aziraphale, and caught his breath when he saw the beautiful swirled-glass vase on the coffee table, as well as what it contained.

The bouquet was neither too large or too small, and as he looked at it, Crowley’s experienced mind began to automatically catalogue the meanings of the flowers that spiraled out from the red rose in the center, a beautiful phi spiral of complimentary colors. A single red rose in the middle said _love and respect, I still love you_, surrounded by the yellow roses of friendship. Red hyacinths for playfulness. Deep pink stock for bonds of affection, ivy for affection and fidelity. Variegated tulips, for beautiful eyes.

Despite himself, Crowley’s own eyes threatened to fill. “Angel,” he said, “you didn’t have to.”

Aziraphale came up beside him, wringing his hands. “Oh, dear, don’t you like them?”

“I do,” Crowley assured him, and rubbed his wrist against his eyes. Not wiping, because he absolutely wasn’t crying over a bouquet. “I love them, angel. Erm, uh…why’d you get me flowers? You didn’t have to.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s face in his warm hands and looked at him with those ever-changing eyes. They looked dark blue against the gray of Crowley’s flat. “I wanted to. I brought you flowers because you _deserve _them. Because I love you. Must there really be a reason in order for you to believe me?” He kissed Crowley’s forehead. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” Crowley said. He kissed him hard, tasting spices. “Love you too, angel.” He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him close, hands on his broad back. “You just surprised me. It was really sweet.”

Aziraphale hugged him back. Crowley could almost swear he felt the love radiating off him. It felt warm and thick, like sunlight or a weighted blanket. “I’m so glad you like them.”

“Yeah.” Crowley took a second to soak up the love. “They’ll stay alive for ages if they know what’s good for them, _won’t they?_”

Aziraphale kissed the tip of his nose, which Crowley wrinkled in response. “Save the threatening for another time, darling,” he said. “Right now, I’m peckish.”

“So am I,” said Crowley, and to his surprise, he was. Maybe he was an even better cook than he thought.

_i get edged_

Aziraphale had wanted a wider shot, but Crowley had insisted on zooming the camera in on just the area of interest. “It’s the _aesthetic_, angel,” he insisted. To his delight, that was what made Aziraphale acquiesce. Good to know.

The zoom also kept the camera off Crowley’s face, which was so hot that he knew it had to be bright red. “A-ah, oh, _angel_,” he moaned as Aziraphale took his hand away for the third time, “_please_.”

“You were far too close to coming, my love,” Aziraphale said, his tone lightly scolding. “Just look at your messy cock! I don’t think I can trust you right this minute. You’re supposed to hold back like a good boy, and I don’t believe you can.”

Crowley looked down at his cock. It was true; he was leaking, and Aziraphale’s gentle admonition had only made the issue worse. “Fuck…”

“Now, now, I shan’t do that,” said Aziraphale. “Not this time. Such a filthy mouth! I ought to punish you for that kind of language. Why, I ought not to let you come at all.”

“Guh,” said Crowley as his cock pulsed, dripping even more pre-come onto his belly. “I’m sorry, angel, I’ll try not to say – oh, _God!_” Aziraphale had his cock in his hand again, a soft touch that felt so blessed good.

“You shouldn’t have said that, either, but I suppose I can let it go,” Aziraphale said. “My dear, I’m making you come apart so prettily. Should I be proud of myself or disappointed in you? Or…perhaps pleased with you, later?”

Crowley whined. “B-both,” he said, and canted up his hips. “Let me come. Please, please, let me come…_nnnnggghohgod_.” Aziraphale was squeezing his cock gently in his fist and teasing the head with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. How long had it been? Ten minutes, half an hour, a day and a half? He felt so good and so tormented, on edge like this. “Angel…”

“Come,” said Aziraphale. Crowley dared a look at him and found Aziraphale’s eyes bright with lust, the tip of his tongue flicking his flushed lips. “Come, my dear,” said Aziraphale as Crowley trembled on the edge, “for me.”

Crowley rode the waves of the resulting orgasm for a long time, letting it rock him back to himself like a moving sea that turned to gentle swells. Aziraphale stroked his hand as he opened his eyes; he didn’t realize he’d closed them. “That was beautiful, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “Thank you for holding out so long. You were marvelous.”

“You were more marvelous,” Crowley said, feeling drunkenly mush-mouthed. He supposed that was what a good edging session did to you. “Marvelouser.”

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale said. “I ought to tell you that I came in my trousers a few minutes before you.”

Crowley levered himself up and examined the wet patch in Aziraphale’s trousers. “Bastard,” he said. “I’m impressed. You didn’t miss a stroke.”

“You’re not the only one who’s had years of practice,” said Aziraphale primly. Crowley chuckled. “What? If I’m not allowed to be jealous about your past partners…”

“I’m not jealous, angel, just amused. Never think you’ll hear an angel talking about their past fuckbuddies, you know?” He sat up with some difficulty and laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale huffed. “Well, you needn’t be so vulgar about it.”

Crowley shrugged. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

Aziraphale petted his head. “Call them whatever you like,” he said. “Just remember that it’s you I love.”

_scenario: in the bath / scenario: slippery wet bath sex_

“That was _marvelous_,” Aziraphale said. He turned off the camera, and Crowley lay gasping in the water, feeling rather like he’d just run a marathon. Maybe two marathons. On sand. “You splashed so nicely when you came, Crowley.” He beamed. “I believe I got you at a wonderful angle, too.”[3]

“Great, angel,” Crowley wheezed, his breath still coming in pants. “You’re learning. Ought to be proud of yourself.”

If Aziraphale caught the sarcasm, he didn’t respond. “Do you feel very sated, my dear? Would you like to put off the sequel for another night?”

“Gimme…five minutes.” He turned over and wiggled his freckled arse at Aziraphale, just for the fun of it. “Great thing about being a demon. No refractory period if you don’t want it.”

Aziraphale gave a little squeak, which told Crowley that his milkshake was indeed bringing all the angels to the yard. “Crowley, you’re very wicked.”

“You’re only the millionth person to tell me that,” Crowley said. _And the first, _he thought. Sometimes it was fun to think about the good old days in the Garden of Eden, rather than wrenching. “Do _you _want a break before we move on? Is that why you asked?”

“Only a few minutes,” Aziraphale said. “Sit up, I’ve got something for you to drink.”

Crowley did as he was told, and Aziraphale pressed a cup of hot tea with honey to his lips. He slurped at it eagerly, only realizing as he drank how thirsty he was. “Thanks, angel,” he said. “Better than Gatorade. That’s angel magic for you, huh?”

“I beg your pardon,” said Aziraphale, sniffing in obviously-fake indignation. “It’s angel _miracles_, thank you very much.”

“Excuse me for living,” Crowley said, and drained the cup, which he then miracled back into Aziraphale’s little kitchen. “I’m ready whenever you are. Let me just get out and adjust the camera angle. Do you want me to run a new bath, or do you mind sitting in my dirty demon water?”

Aziraphale made a disgusted face. “Crowley, your phrasing! I have miracles to help with that.” He snapped his fingers and the water was clean and warm again, the tub full enough to make things fun. He’d also put in bath bubbles, Crowley noticed. “Am I going to get a yeast infection from this?” he asked. “Scented products.”

“No,” said Aziraphale, and gave him a _look. _“I don’t make anything that will give you an infection, Crowley. Surely you would have guessed that by now.” He slid his arms out of his jacket, which he’d insisted on wearing even in the humid bathroom. Thanks to angelic miracles, it didn’t have a spot of moisture on it. “Shall I get in now?”

Crowley moved to the side of the tub to give Aziraphale some room. “Get in, angel,” he said. “There’s plenty of space for us both. Unless you want me to get out and help you with your clothes.” He hungrily eyed Aziraphale, who was now taking off his waistcoat. “I can dry off.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Stay where you are,” he said. “I’ll only be a tick.” He quickly got the rest of his clothes off and splashed his way into the bath, then briefly closed his eyes in bliss. “This is lovely. Are you sure we shouldn’t bathe first? Just to –“

“Angel,” Crowley said, “if you take a real bath, you’ll just end up getting tired and then you won’t want to do it anymore. I know how much you like your creature comforts.”

“You’re right,” said Aziraphale with a sigh. “And a good fuck will be just as good as a bath, I should think.” Crowley felt blood rush to his cock at the sound of that word in Aziraphale’s prim pink mouth. “Will you take care of the camera, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” Crowley snapped his fingers, and heard a series of small mechanical noises as the camera adjusted. “Sure you don’t want to start with just me in here? It’ll be more plotty.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, it’s all right if this one is a bit…what’s it called? Porny.”

“Porny it is.” Crowley grinned at him. “Right, get on top of me, angel. Stick to the plan. The camera angle’ll hide our faces.”

“I’m fairly sure,” said Aziraphale, doing as Crowley requested, “that you once called that the _angel _angle. Really, my dear? Your puns are execrable.”

“You know you love them.” Crowley helped Aziraphale lie down on top of him, kissed him, and raised a hand. “You ready?” Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley snapped his fingers to turn the camera on.

They began with a long, languid session of kisses that became more passionate the harder Aziraphale grew. Soon Crowley was feeling warm all over, and not just from the bathwater, and Aziraphale had begun to kiss his cheeks and down his neck as well as his lips. In fact, Crowley thought that his lips might even be bruised and swollen into tomorrow unless he healed them with a miracle. “Angel,” he said, remembering the accent just in time, “what d’you want?”

Aziraphale ground his cock against Crowley’s thigh. His belly slipped across Crowley’s middle, slick from the bathwater and bubbles; Crowley tilted his hips for some friction. “Let me fuck you, my dear,” he said. “Or would you prefer to fuck me?”

“I’ll do it this time,” Crowley said. He swallowed; the thought of getting to be inside Aziraphale on camera was almost enough to make him break character. “Lube, angel?”

“Oh, I made myself nice and ready before I got in with you,” Aziraphale purred. It was an obvious cover-up for a quick miracle, made even more obvious by Aziraphale wiggling against him as it took effect. “I was very eager for you, my sweet.”

“You really _are _eager,” said Crowley, happy to go along with the ruse. “Are you hard?”

Aziraphale’s erection was evident between them, but Aziraphale nodded nevertheless. “So very hard,” he said. His put-on accent turned the words into trills. “I don’t even need you to prepare me. Please fuck me, dear.”

“_Guhh_,” said Crowley, feeling a bit like he’d melted and was now swirling around the bath in colorful streaks.[4] “Of course.” He took Aziraphale by his soft hips and kissed him again, then dug his fingers into the flesh as he lined himself up with where he needed to go and pushed in.

Aziraphale gasped and bit his shoulder. The shock of pain only added to the pleasure of having his angel squeeze around him, even hotter than the bathwater and as tight as a vise. He was _perfect. _“Yes,” Aziraphale said, voice strained. “Yes, yes.”

“Like that?” said Crowley. “Want me to move?” He could have stayed there forever. Would have, if Aziraphale asked him. But Aziraphale shook his head just a tiny bit, and Crowley was powerless to do anything except obey. “_Fuck_,” he said, breathing out hard through his nose so he wouldn’t just start fucking into Aziraphale like a bloody piston. The slow drag of him against his cock was better than – not better than sex. Definitely better than food. Better than _something._

“Yes, fuck,” said Aziraphale. “Fuck me, darling.” He pushed down, enveloping Crowley completely. Crowley idly, or as idly as he could get in this position, wondered if the viewers would enjoy the sight of Aziraphale’s round arse among the bubbles. It had to be shown to at least some effect, even if Aziraphale was mostly sitting up on top of him. “You fuck me so well.”

Crowley made a noise that was neither human nor demon and grabbed Aziraphale’s hips again, doing as he was told. “Jesus…”

“No, not…_ohhh_…not him,” Aziraphale scolded. “Angel.”

Crowley’s brain went offline at that. He growled and held Aziraphale tighter, and soon enough they had found a rhythm that made his eyes roll up in his head. “Gonna come,” he whimpered. Aziraphale deserved some warning, no matter how many times they had done this. “’bout to…”

“Do it.” Aziraphale’s voice was half-gone, a moan that went straight to Crowley’s cock. He was powerless to do anything but come hard enough that he was only vaguely aware of Aziraphale riding him just long enough to do the same.

He turned the camera off as soon as their breathing calmed down; a few commenters had mentioned they liked the afterglow, and Crowley occasionally liked to accommodate requests, as long as they weren’t too crazy. “How’d you like your bath sex, angel?” he asked, resting his nose in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “Not too wet and wild for you?”

“Certainly not.” Aziraphale pulled off him and snapped his fingers to get rid of the evidence. “Isn’t that a makeup line?”

Crowley shrugged. “The expression came first. We should do this again sometime. Without the camera, I mean.”

Aziraphale’s eyes gleamed. “I’d certainly be willing to add it to our repertoire,” he said in a tone that indicated he would be willing to make it part of the regular rotation. “Now let’s have a bit of a cuddle before we get out.”

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Hello! Thank you all for your patience. Here is the link to our latest video; you can see the last several by looking back at the playlist. I hope that those of you who celebrate have had an excellent Purim._

**reply from: i-like-to-read-in-the-dark**

_AAAA BATH VIDEOS BATH VIDEOS BATH VIDEOS!!!!!!_

_Guys. Watch these. They’re like, the pinnacle of porn._

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_that edging video? FUCK. Jesus, you two are so obviously made for each other. i would not be able to last like that (sorry if too personal)._

_(also, you’re Jewish? chag sameach!!!)_

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_@to-kill-a-lockingbird I’m not Jewish per se, but I am well-versed in a number of different faiths, and am eminently familiar with Judaism. Purim is a lovely holiday, with a beautiful story behind it._

**reply from: its-a-me-mario [MODERATOR]**

_Ok, so I ask this as a devoted fan and NOT in a mod capacity: would you ever consider doing an AMA @Fell_From_Heaven? The bits of information you’ve revealed about how much you know are utterly tantalizing. Obviously, we wouldn’t ask you to reveal where you live or anything like that (RIGHT, GUYS?), but we’d love to have you if you decide you want to do that kind of thread._

“What’s an AMA?” Aziraphale asked.

“Ask Me Anything,” Crowley said. “Internet thing. You set up a thread and people get to…okay, it’s exactly what it says on the tin. They get to ask you anything, obviously. It’s your choice what to answer.”

Aziraphale nodded, then wiggled in place. “Ooh. That sounds rather interesting. But – if they ask terribly personal things, I wouldn’t want to answer, and then I’d feel dreadful for not answering. If they’ve taken the time to type it out, I mean.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. Aziraphale was quite possibly even _more _focused on Internet safety and etiquette than the average baby boomer parent, and that was saying a lot. Hypocritical, considering he put his junk out there for anyone to see, but still, not unexpected. “So tell them you don’t want to do it. Or don’t respond. They won’t ban you if you don’t.”

“I’ll tell them no and be kind about it,” said Aziraphale. “I just want to read a few more comments first. They’re all so complimentary.”

**reply from: books_on_snape**

_if I had a partner who talked to me the way From A to C talks to you, @Fell_From_Heaven, I would be a happy human being. this is why I’m picky about who I date._

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_@books_on_snape probably a good call. Try to find someone you can talk to about anything, also._

_@Fell_From_Heaven I think these are the cutest videos yet. also homg, your hands! so pretty! i wish mine were that smooth. you’ve inspired me to start using lotion again._

“Huh,” said Crowley. “That’s still politer than the comments on the actual porn.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Do I want to know?”

“I can check for you.” Crowley snapped his fingers to bring his laptop over and quickly found the requisite site. “Okay,” he said after a few minutes of browsing, “gross. No, you don’t want to know.”

“Ugh,” said Aziraphale, grimacing. “Any highlights, at least?”

“Well, graham69 is at it again,” Crowley said. “Could you get any more obvious with the username?”

Aziraphale cocked his head. “I’d rather not associate that user with that particular sex act,” he said, “considering how enjoyable you and I have found it.”

Heat rose in Crowley’s neck and cheeks. “Angel, you dirty thing,” he said. “I’ve got a few games of Grand Theft Auto to play, but we should do _that particular sex act _–“ he mimicked Aziraphale’s accent – “sometime soon.”

“Oh, yes,” said Aziraphale. “I’ve a busy afternoon as well, but I’m sure we can make time before too long. Where would I be if I couldn’t explore the permutations of pleasure with my lover?”

Aziraphale really did have the best way with words.

* * *

A season and a half had passed, and four more plants had joined the African violet on Aziraphale’s windowsill, before Aziraphale brought up the subject again. “Crowley,” he said on a sultry August morning, “do you know what day it is?”

Crowley uncurled from his position in an excellent sunbeam and shifted forms. “Um…a hot day?”

“Not exactly,” said Aziraphale, and ran his hand through Crowley’s hair. “Why don’t I – oh, yes, come here. Put your head on my lap, that’s a good fellow. Anyhow, it’s the twenty-third of August.”

It took Crowley a second to place the date. “Bloody heaven. It’s been a year since…”

“Yes, since that.” Aziraphale smoothed Crowley’s hair off his forehead, then did it again, a soothing motion that made Crowley’s eyes close. “Might I ask…well, it’s quite an anniversary, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Did you want to do anything to celebrate? Dinner at the Ritz again?” Crowley asked. “Technically, the anniversary of _that _would be tomorrow, though. Tough decision.”

“Mm, not exactly.” Aziraphale twirled a lock of Crowley’s hair around his finger. “I thought I might ask – we’ve been, er, almost cohabiting for a few months now. Would you like to do it full-time? I thought this might be a good time to ask, since it’s been some time.” His voice was even, but Crowley could feel the tenseness in his thighs.

That, at least, was something he could fix. In fact, he’d been thinking about the same concept. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said. “I think I sleep better here than at my flat. Still not giving it up, though. And you need to get a bigger bed, angel, because yours is lumpy and you’ve sleep-punched me at least twice. I’m more than happy to bring mine over, because that’s a deal-breaker.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Sleep-punched,” he said in a tone that sounded not so much delighted as giddy with relief. “Oh, my dear, I’m so glad. I’ve grown to love having you here all the time.”

“So have I,” said Crowley. “You’re doing me a favor, angel. Smells a lot better here than at my place – mine’s just sterile.” Couldn’t have it getting too sappy. He was a big sappy fan, but only when it meant he _wouldn’t _cry on Aziraphale’s lap if the mood continued. Better to lighten it. “It’ll smell even better once I bring more plants over.”

“My dear,” said Aziraphale, “if you bring over _very _many more, I won’t be able to find my books for all the greenery.”

“My point exactly,” said Crowley with an insouciant wink. Aziraphale’s resulting eye-roll delighted him. “So…that’s settled.” The earth should have jerked under them, the skies should have blazed with double the sunlight, the grass should have cycled through all the colors of the rainbow before settling on green again. He was moving in with Aziraphale, and the day went on as usual. It felt strange.

Aziraphale ran a thumb down the arch of Crowley’s cheekbone. “What should we do to celebrate? Should we have ice-cream sundaes? I’m told that that’s the done thing.”

Crowley shrugged. “Maybe,” he said – and then an idea struck. “Or we could get creative about it.”

_we celebrate moving in with food_

Aziraphale dipped a paintbrush in the bowl of warm chocolate sauce next to him and painted a line down Crowley’s belly. It rapidly cooled, leaving Crowley to shiver at the temperature contrast. “I do like this,” he said. “I’m so glad you suggested it to me.”

“Happy to be your canvas,” Crowley said. Aziraphale painted a circle around each areola, and his belly tensed at the thought of what might come next. “Just think, angel, you could do this to me every night now if you wanted. Aren’t you glad I said I’d move in?”

“Very much so,” said Aziraphale. He blew on the lines of chocolate, then drew wavy lines down Crowley’s sides that had him clenching his fists to keep from squirming and giggling. He never wanted the viewers to learn how ticklish he was, if he could help it. “This is going to be delicious when I finally lick it off you.”

Crowley ground his teeth. “Tease.”

“No, my darling, just a connoisseur.” Aziraphale made another line on Crowley’s breastbone. “It wouldn’t do to go too fast on an endeavor as delicious as this. I plan to take my time and savor your taste.”

Crowley pressed his tongue against the bottom of his mouth until his jaw hurt with the pressure, and Aziraphale kept painting lines and shapes (at least one of which, he could tell, was a heart) all over his chest, belly, and thighs. He wouldn’t give Aziraphale the satisfaction of hearing him cave this quickly. This had been his idea, and he would see it through to the end, even if he pulled his face apart in doing so. “Aren’t you stoic?” said Aziraphale, and dotted his left nipple with chocolate. “My goodness. Are you so determined not to let me see how much you’re enjoying this?”

“No, feels…feels good,” Crowley ground out. “Really good.” His cock was working its way to full hardness. That was one thing for going slow – the whole experience tended to be a hell of a lot more torturous, albeit in a really fucking good way. “Want you to keep – keep it up.”

“I shall,” Aziraphale said. “I’m going to cover you in chocolate, and then I’ll lick it off. And then I might try other things. Would you like that?”

Crowley whimpered. “_Ngh, _yeah,” he said. “Gonna use your mouth?”

“On you?” said Aziraphale, his tone far too innocent. “I might. Quite apart from licking you clean, I mean.” Then there was a warm finger on his cock, and Crowley was beyond grateful that he could miracle away any residue afterwards. He’d heard horror stories of what this kind of play did to human bits. “You’re going to be _delicious _by the time I’m through decorating you.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and repressed his groan, all the better to last longer than a millisecond. Things tended to get…_fast _when Aziraphale talked dirty while touching him. “Want to be delicious for you, angel.”

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale said. “Then this will be delightful.”

He was as good as his word, putting a few more brushstrokes on Crowley’s belly, nipples, and cock. “There now, I think you’re decorated enough,” he said. Crowley could just imagine him sitting back on his heels in satisfaction. “But I might have put on too much. That just means more for me to lick off, doesn’t it?”

Crowley was beyond words. All the blood in his brain had rushed downstairs at the approximate speed of his own Fall. “Ghh.”

“That’s a yes if I ever heard one,” Aziraphale said, and began to lick the chocolate from Crowley’s belly with his sinful fucking tongue. No angel should have been able to make the act of licking a normal stretch of skin erotic. “Now hold still. I want to get every last bit of chocolate that I can. Mm, it tastes just delectable on you.” He moved his mouth higher, licking the chocolate away from Crowley’s chest and nipples. “My goodness, it’s even better here.” He set to licking and sucking the sauce off Crowley’s skin with pleased little noises, just like when he ate anything else. Crowley might never be able to take him to the Ritz again. But – _fuck_, he thought as Aziraphale ran his tongue in a circle around his nipple, _maybe it’s worth it._

Aziraphale took his sweet time getting the chocolate off the more northerly places he’d applied it before moving down to take Crowley’s cock in his mouth. He started slowly, but soon had most of Crowley’s erection in his mouth. “Angel,” Crowley gasped, “angel, p-please…what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning you off,” said Aziraphale with exaggerated innocence. “I’m almost finished here, but goodness, you’re tasty.” He kissed the head of Crowley’s cock and took a few moments to tongue at it. “I think I’ll stay down here, if you don’t mind.”

Crowley didn’t know who had taught Aziraphale to talk this dirty, but he was going to have to find them and thank them, even if they were centuries in the grave. “Ffffff,” he said. Words seemed to be beyond him.

Aziraphale clearly didn’t mind. He stayed down there, sucking and licking Crowley’s cock for far longer than would have been required to actually remove the chocolate. Crowley was just on the edge of coming when Aziraphale pulled off with an audible smack of his lips. “Oh, don’t fret so,” he said as Crowley whimpered. “I have a different kind of stimulation in store for you tonight.”

Crowley could hear Aziraphale rummaging around, as well as a telltale chewing noise that alerted him to Aziraphale taking a surreptitious spoonful of chocolate sauce for himself. He was glad he’d talked him out of ganache, which would have been impossible to draw with. “Here we are!” said Aziraphale. “How about a bit of time in the cold, my darling?”

He knew what was coming, but the sensation of the ice cube against his chest was still enough of a shock that Crowley had to suppress a yelp. “Isn’t that nice?” said Aziraphale, and used the ice to make Crowley’s nipple and areola even tighter than before, which Crowley wouldn’t have thought possible.

Cold water dripped down his sides as Aziraphale laved him with ice, melted just enough that it was wet instead of sticky-dry.[5] “I don’t think it would be _quite _safe to use this on your pretty cock,” Aziraphale said, “but perhaps a bit of cold…” He ran two cold, wet fingers down Crowley’s cock and stroked his balls. “My, you’re certainly tightening up.”

Crowley’s hips bucked despite his determination to keep them steady. “Coming,” he gasped, “coming…really soon, angel.”

“I don’t mind a bit,” said Aziraphale. “In fact, I may join you. I do have two hands.” He stroked Crowley hard and fast. “Ooh, I’ve got one in my trousers right now…_oh_, that’s nice. Why – why don’t you come for me, dear?”

Crowley prided himself on coming only moments before Aziraphale did, despite how much more stimulation he’d taken. Maybe there was something to be said for demonic sexual prowess after all. “Fuck,” he said when the camera clicked off, “you really took to this one.”

“I did,” said Aziraphale through another mouthful of chocolate sauce.

“You’re going to finish that stuff, aren’t you?” Crowley said, and chortled at Aziraphale’s indignant noise. “Come on, it’s funny. I don’t mind if you eat it. Not like I’m about to.”

Aziraphale resurfaced beside him, his lips already chocolatey enough to betray him, even if the noises hadn’t. “I like to eat,” he said. “It’s not a crime.”

“’Course it’s not. I never said it was.” Crowley kissed his forehead. “Come on, don’t make me censor myself when I’m shagged-out. It’s an impossible task. Sisyphus and the rock.”

“I knew him,” Aziraphale said, “and he never pushed any rock. Well, he did, but not _infinite _times.”

“The forum’s right about you,” said Crowley, and planted a kiss on Aziraphale’s sweet lips. “You really are a mad literalist.”

_my angel asks me something_

Despite his knowledge of what was to come, despite the thrill that ran through him every time he thought about it, Crowley’s heart had never pounded so hard while he was filming a video – not even the first time he and Aziraphale made one together. “Angel,” he said, shifting into a sexier lounging position on Aziraphale’s bed, “did you want to get started or what?”

“Oh, _naughty_,” said Aziraphale. They’d positioned the camera so that it showed his naked arse, but for now, Crowley had a glorious full-frontal view. “What have I told you, dear? You _must _go more slowly. Savor the act. When was the last time you took the time to truly enjoy it? Treat our fun like a box of fine chocolates.”

“Are you calling me sinful?” Crowley said, letting his consonants turn thick and rumbly. “Some people describe chocolates that way.”

“If you’re sinful, then I’m a dreadful sinner. You like it that way, my love.” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at him and moved his hips in a way guaranteed to bring Crowley off when he was inside him. “But before we begin…” Crowley’s heart began to beat at hummingbird speed. “Might I ask you something in a rather different position? It’s rather important.”

Crowley licked his lips and forced himself to put on the saucy expression they’d practiced. “A different position? What part of me are you going to be asking, angel?”

“You’ll see,” said Aziraphale, and sank down on one knee.

The gasp that Crowley let out was, to his shame, only partially fake. How many times had he fantasized about this moment, _dreamed _of this moment on countless lonely nights? Aziraphale had known right away, without Crowley even having to ask, that he would want the grandest of romantic gestures. That he would want tradition.

“Angel,” he finally said, both loving and hating how his voice trembled, “what are you doing?”

“I’m asking you perhaps the most important question of all, darling,” said Aziraphale. “You’re always calling me your angel. Would you make me the happiest angel in the world and be my husband?”

Crowley’s eyes filled, and he was glad the camera wouldn’t pick up on it. “Of course,” he said. “Of course I will. You – you know that.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand before too many tears could spill onto his cheeks. “Always, angel. I’d marry you any time.”

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale moved onto both knees and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist and burying his head in his lap. “That’s just what I hoped you’d say.”

Crowley looked down at him, at the soft raw-silk hair and skin gilded by the afternoon sun. Aziraphale, he thought, was proof that God didn’t give enough of a shit about him anymore to hate him or what he did. The thought should have made him sad, but instead he only felt _free. _“You’re ridiculous, you know,” he said, running his hands through Aziraphale’s curls. “Should we celebrate?”

“I think there’s no occasion more worthy of celebration,” Aziraphale said. “Except maybe…well. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, won’t we?” He kissed each of Crowley’s thighs in turn. “Why don’t you bring your bum up to the edge of the bed, dear?”

“What are you planning to do to it, exactly?” Crowley asked, but moved all the same. And then Aziraphale was spreading his cheeks, and – “Jesus fuck!”

“Not exactly,” said Aziraphale between flicks of his tongue. “I don’t think we ought to invoke the name of someone who’s not even here, don’t you agree? My, you’re nice and clean for me.”

Crowley moaned and let his head fall back, spreading his legs wider so Aziraphale would have a better angle. He tried to speak, but only nonsense came out. Aziraphale hummed and licked him even harder – it was clear he didn’t mind, and might even like Crowley’s verbal oddities, as he’d once called them.

The pleasure built quickly, and Crowley was just about to let himself taste the sweet release of, well, _release _when Aziraphale pulled away. “Not fair, angel!” he cried, and grabbed for Aziraphale’s hair. “I was just about to – “

“My point exactly,” said Aziraphale, cool as a fucking cucumber. “You’re quite the demon in bed, you know. If we’re celebrating, I think perhaps we both ought to last a bit longer than that, don’t you?” He bent his head and reapplied his mouth, and Crowley almost forgot how to function.

With his usual razor-sharp precision, Aziraphale brought Crowley to the edge again and again, each time soothing Crowley with pats to the thigh as he tortured him beyond the capacity of any human’s endurance. Crowley’s noises went from babbling to semi-coherent begging as he rallied the last of his brainpower, and then devolved into repeated whines of “please, please, please” with every push and stroke of Aziraphale’s tongue.

He wasn’t sure how long it was, exactly, that Aziraphale played with him, but he did know that the shadows in the room had lengthened by the time Aziraphale finally stopped teasing and led him to a climax that – in his half-conscious opinion – defined the word ‘glorious.’ Then Aziraphale took him in hand and worked him to full hardness again, and slicked himself open before sitting down on Crowley’s cock.

“I love you,” Crowley gasped into Aziraphale’s neck. They were both hot and running sweat, and he didn’t care. “I love you, I love you, _Iloveyouziraphaleloveyou_,” and Aziraphale’s clenches around him and rising cries pushed him past rational thought into a pulsing, blissful lack thereof.

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Good afternoon! I believe that this video will be rather a success, if I may say so myself._

**reply from: shallicomparetheetoasummersmosquitobite**

_oh my god oh mY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD_

_CONGRATULATIONS_

_AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING ALL OF THIS WITH US HORNY FUCKS_

**reply from: stinkstankstunk**

_de-lurking again to say jesus C H R I S T_

**reply from: beatrice_and_benedickhead**

_Does not compute. my brain has gone offline. How do you manage to mix horny and tender every fucken time?_

_PS: I have been puzzling over and over and over what From A to C said before he orgasmed the last time. zee rappel? zebra flail? Raphael? I don’t think you seem like a Raphael, so I’m gonna rule name-moaning out. Is it something in gaelic?_

**reply from: denny5**

_CONGRATULATIONS MY DUDE_

_*blows party horn*_

_*blows – nvm*_

_i grovel at ur feet_

**reply from: i-like-to-read-in-the-dark**

_just spent 20 minutes looking at a Gaelic dictionary and I can’t find anything, but I’m no linguist. and I need to stop invading your privacy right freakin’ now @Fell_From_Heaven LOL_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_HOOOOOLY FRICKFRACK. Where’s @shallicomparetheetoasummersmosquitobite to help me invoke the Flying Spaghetti Monster when I’m in need???? So much congrats, @Fell_From_Heaven._

_(Is it wrong that I’m kind of proud of myself for putting these up in the first place? Like, I consider myself part of the reason you two got together in the first place. Lol ignore me._

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_I wouldn’t consider that incorrect at all, my dear @to-kill-a-lockingbird. Thank you for deciding to – what was the phrase you used? Share the magic?_

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_you are MOST WELCOME. Also, you called your guy a demon in bed, but I find it so amusing that your username implies you’re actually the demon._

**reply from: Fell_From_Heaven**

_Pardon me?_

_Edited to add: oh dear. Oh dear. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I promise that the implications never crossed my mind. Oh, goodness._

**reply from: to-kill-a-lockingbird**

_oh no, don’t change your name! We all love you as our Fell!_

**reply from: treeofknowledge**

_where’s the ring, Lancelot?_

**reply from: notmakingausernameforthisstupidsiteangel**

_wouldn’t u like 2 know _😉

* * *

[1] The fact that Aziraphale also liked to grab it during sex was an added benefit.

[2] In marked contrast, of course, to _his _pervert quasi-bookseller.

[3] That’s what she said. Which was exactly what Crowley thought.

[4] The Crowley Bath Melt would probably retail for a stupidly high amount of money at Lush.

[5] He didn’t relish the thought of having to redo the video because an ice cube had stuck to his nipple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, as always, godihatethisfreakingcat on Tumblr. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm godihatethisfreakingcat on Tumblr. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [number one fan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324694) by [attheborder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/attheborder/pseuds/attheborder)


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